


Into the Archives

by skygawker



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 105,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skygawker/pseuds/skygawker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After hearing the legend of Darth Plagueis the Wise from Palpatine, Anakin decides that his best chance to save Padme is to break into the restricted Holocron Vault of the Temple Archives to search for information about Plagueis. Predictably, all does not go according to plan. Revenge of the Sith AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Idea

Anakin flew his speeder away from the opera house in a daze. The Chancellor's words were repeating in his head, a message of hope bouncing around inside his mind: _Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord of the Sith so powerful and so wise, he could use the Force to influence the midi-chlorians to create life. He had such a knowledge of the Dark Side, he could even keep the ones he cared about from dying...he could even keep the ones he cared about from dying...keep the ones he cared about from dying..._

If he could just figure out how to gain that same knowledge, he could save Padme. He could save  _everyone_ ; with that sort of power, surely he'd be able to bring peace and justice to the galaxy. He wouldn't be held back by the restraints the Jedi had placed on him, the rigid bindings of _let go of everything you fear to lose_  and  _accept the will of the Force, you must_  and _there is no passion, there is peace_. If he managed to do this, he really would be the most powerful Jedi ever. What control would the Council have over him then? He'd make them let him be with Padme, forever.

It was, of course, the Jedi themselves who were the problem. As Palpatine had said, he couldn't learn that sort of power from them. They feared him too much to ever give him access to the really useful information - they'd proved that when they had refused to make him a Master, despite his abilities, thus keeping him from the restricted areas of the Temple Archives where the holocrons made by the greatest and most powerful Jedi Masters were stored. It was there that he'd earlier thought he might find information to save Padme, and it was there that he would most likely find information about Plagueis, if the man wasn't just a legend.

Should he ask Obi-Wan for help? He'd dismissed the idea earlier; even assuming Obi-Wan's view on acting to prevent visions had changed from three years ago, it would be impossible to get explain the situation without revealing his relationship with Padme. Not to mention the fact that Obi-Wan would probably hate him for throwing away all of his teachings. Now, though, he found he barely even cared if Obi-Wan found out. Let them kick him out of the Order - what did his status as a Jedi matter, when Padme's life was at stake. He'd rather be excommunicated and be with her than stay a Jedi and let her die...

But though he could maybe ask Obi-Wan to help him get information about visions and healing and even childbirth, there was absolutely no way that Obi-Wan would agree to help research Sith legends and techniques. The man was simply too indoctrinated in the ways of the Jedi. And Anakin was sure now that he wouldn't find anything useful from purely Jedi sources - if the Jedi had ways to prevent death, surely he would have heard about it. Call it intuition, or a message from the Force - he  _knew_  that in Palpatine's words lay the only path to saving her.

Which meant that asking for Obi-Wan's help wouldn't do any good. It would just get him expelled from the Order sooner. And there was no other Master he could think of who would give him permission to go into the restricted Archives.

He gritted his teeth. This was so, so unfair. It was completely ridiculous that he couldn't just go into the Archives on his own - he had the power of any ten Masters, he deserved the same rank and respect and privileges.

A thought hit him as he approached the Temple landing platform. He couldn't just go into the Holocron Vaults on his own...or could he? Just how strict were the security measures? Not perfect. He'd heard the story of the initiate Lorian Nod who'd broken in decades ago; Dooku had managed to tamper with the Archive records before leaving the Order; and Cad Bane had stolen a holocron only a few years before. Yes, security had been increased after each of those events, but maybe only against those specific sorts of things. He had no intention of tampering with anything as Dooku had, he wasn't an intruder in the Temple itself, and maybe the internal security was only strong enough for Nod's sort of childish attempt, maybe they assumed no Jedi old enough to be as powerful as Anakin was would be reckless enough to risk their place in the Order just for a chance to see some holocrons.

Well, he thought as he landed the speeder, he  _was_  that reckless. More accurately, he was that desperate.

Despite the fact that he hadn't gotten more than three hours of sleep a night since the first night after he'd returned to Coruscant, despite the fact that Padme and Palpatine and the Council were pulling him in so many directions at once that he could practically feel himself splitting apart, Anakin felt more alive than he'd been since he'd had the first nightmare of Padme's death. He had a goal now, a path that might lead him out of this mess, and idea that might actually work. At best, he'd find a way to save Padme with no one the wiser. At worst...well, if he couldn't find a way to save her, then the consequences didn't really matter, did they?

He'd die if she did, after all.

He fought off a yawn as he began to walk away from the platform. There was no time for exhaustion, and anyway, he didn't want to dream. Maybe he should eat something - but his appetite had been practically nonexistent the past few days. No, he just needed to push past his tiredness. Once he'd saved Padme, he'd be able to sleep as much as he wanted to.

First things first. He needed to scope out the Holocron Vaults, which meant that he needed an excuse to go into the Archives. Though going there wasn't a particularly suspicious activity in and of itself, Anakin had rarely been inside since he was a padawan being forced to do research for his classes. Between that and the fact that he was pretty sure Jocasta Nu still didn't like him - he had never been particularly good at following the 'quiet in the library' or 'no eating' rules when he was younger - he was fairly certain that she would be watching him closely if she happened to see him.

But hey, if he was going to break into one of the most secure rooms of probably the most secure building on the planet, he wasn't going to be stopped by a librarian, no matter how draconian and actually kinda intimidating she might be.

* * *

Realizing exactly how long it had been since he'd done any research serious enough to need to know the layout of the Archives, Anakin stopped outside the entrance to look at the floor map displayed there. There were two points of access to the Holocron Vaults. One was from the Fourth Hall, which according to the map contained information on galactic zoology. Yeah, he was pretty sure he couldn't come up with any believable-sounding reason for being  _there_. The other was from the Second Hall...which was full of datapads on math and engineering.  _Perfect_.

He slipped into the main rotunda, head down, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. If he could just get down Second Hall without Madame Nu noticing him, this would be a whole lot simpler. He had only taken about three steps when a voice issued from immediately behind him: "Knight Skywalker! May I help you with anything?"

Anakin jumped, biting back a groan. He hadn't even noticed her! "Just looking for some technical specs on the new starfighters," he said innocently, fake smile plastered across his face.

She raised an eyebrow. "At this time of night?"

Anakin didn't actually know what time it was, having been too distracted by the idea of saving Padme during the opera to pay attention to how long it went. He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

"Hmm," Madame Nu said. "Well, follow me." She turned sharply and began to walk toward Second Hall.

Anakin considered protesting that he was capable of finding it on his own, but decided it would probably be less suspicious to go along with it and just wait for her to leave. He hurried after her, even his long legs having trouble keeping up with her brisk pace. They stopped about halfway down the hall, a good ways away from the door to the Holocron Vaults, which was at the end.

He thanked Nu as politely as possible for taking him to the correct section, then pulled out a datapad at random - the engine specifications for a Delta-7, as it turned out. He sat down on a nearby chair and pretended to skim through it, covertly watching as the Chief Librarian returned to the main rotunda...and sat at console which left him perfectly in sight of her. Kriff.

He pretended to read the datapad for what seemed like a very long time, but was probably only about fifteen minutes. Patience had never really been one of his strong points, and though under normal circumstances he would actually have found the material interesting, right now he could practically hear the ticking of a clock as Padme's time slipped away. Finally, he could take it no longer. He stood up, and was immediately hit by a wave of dizziness.  _Woah_ , he thought. _I really gotta eat something once this is over._  The dizziness passed after only a few moments, and replacing the datapad back where it belonged, he meandered as casually as possible down the hall, stopping at random as if to browse.  _Nothing to see here, just a bored, insomniac Knight wandering aimlessly._  He stopped at a shelf near the door to the Vaults and picked out another datapad. This one was about the engineering of long-range weapons - plausible enough for him to read, he supposed, considering how often he got shot at by that sort of thing.

Pretending to be engrossed by the datapad. Anakin settled down into a chair facing the door and extended his senses. This late, the Archives were nearly empty. Besides Madame Nu herself, the only other person nearby was a padawan he didn't recognize who was pacing up and down the hall. Probably the kid was on guard duty, protecting the Vault as Ahsoka had once done.

 _Ahsoka_. A flash of anger and sadness rose up in him, but he pushed it away. Ahsoka had left; he needed to keep his mind on the mission for Padme's sake.

As for the Vault itself...the door was big and heavy, but could be opened fairly easily. The complicated Force lock was, as he had suspected, only really meant to keep out overly curious padawans and any non-Force-sensitive intruders. Which meant that the real challenge for Anakin would be getting in without Madame Nu or the padawan on guard noticing him - both would realize immediately that he wasn't a Master, and then this whole thing would be over with.

He would need to create some sort of distraction. It would have to be something plausibly accidental though, because if anyone figured out it was supposed to be a distraction, the Vault was an obvious enough target that it'd be the first place they'd check. Maybe he should use the Force to knock something over down one of the other Halls? That might be too suspicious if there was nobody else nearby, and anyway, they might not be distracted for long enough to miss the door closing behind him.

Anakin rubbed his eyes. He wished there was some way for him to get some rest without dreaming or losing Padme's precious time, because then he might actually be able to think clearly. Now that his initial surge of energy and excitement over having a plan had worn off, a haze of exhaustion was beginning to settle back over his mind.  _Come on, Skywalker, think. You've solved way harder problems than this before, and Padme's life wasn't even at risk then._  But that was exactly the problem - his mind was so filled with fear for Padme that he could barely think about anything else. _C'mon, there's gotta be an obvious solution here._

"Master Skywalker?"

Anakin jerked out of his reverie. The padawan he'd noticed before had come up to him without even realizing it. She was young, probably only about fifteen or sixteen, and was looking at Anakin expectantly.

Anakin swallowed. "Uh, yes?" he said awkwardly. Force, had he done something suspicious without even realizing it? He glanced nervously back at the rotunda, to see if Madame Nu had noticed. And Madame Nu...wasn't there.

The padawan seemed to have noticed his confusion. "She's gone for the night," she said. "One of the apprentice librarians will probably be here in a few minutes to take over."

Anakin glanced at his wrist chrono - it was nearly midnight, later than he'd thought. But it seemed the Force was with him tonight; this meant that Anakin only had one person to distract, as long as he made his move quickly. Although that person seemed pretty focused on him at the moment. "Oh," he said. "Thanks, um..."

"Bene," she said eagerly. "I heard how you defeated Count Dooku."

Oh. So it was hero-worship, not suspicion that had brought her over here. He supposed that was a good thing, but he was impatient to get on with his plan. "Yeah," he said. "It was, uh, a hard battle." And not one that any real Jedi would praise him for, if they knew the truth of how it had ended.

The girl nodded. "I heard Dooku was one of the best fighters in the Order even before he turned to the dark side. You must be really powerful to have defeated him."

Anakin shrugged awkwardly. Part of him was uncomfortable with the praise. And another part of him whispered, in a voice which sounded oddly like the Supreme Chancellor's,  _isn't it nice to get the recognition you deserve, the recognition the Council is too afraid to give you._

"Of course," she continued, "you would have to be powerful to get on the Council at your age. Aren't you the youngest Master to sit on the Council in like, ever?"

Anakin was nodding, trying to think of ways to get out of his conversation, when he processed the meaning of her words. The youngest Master. The youngest  _Master_? His heart pounded so hard in his chest that he was sure anyone within a five meter radius could hear it. Was the Force truly going to be this kind to him? Was it possible that he was going to just walk into the most secure room on the planet, simply because the Temple gossip mill was missing some information? There was, after all, no reason for this girl to suspect that the Council would be so embroiled in politics and near-treason that they would insult Anakin in the way that they had, by refusing to give him the rank that even this padawan could see he deserved. "Yes, the youngest," he managed. "It was a great honor." He could feel his earlier tiredness disappearing again, replaced with a renewed determination. _I_  can _get in there, and I_  will.

"So, do you need any assistance finding anything?" the girl -  _Bene_ , he reminded himself - asked. She looked like she desperately wanted the answer to be yes, though whether that was because she wanted to help one of her heroes or because she was bored out of her mind with just standing around, Anakin couldn't tell. Probably a little bit of both.

"No, thank you," he said, mind racing. If he took advantage of this...he could get into the vault, but she was sure to mention the encounter to someone at some point, and he'd end up being hauled in front of the Council with no way to deny his guilt. But did that even matter if it meant he could save Padme? It was now or never, he had to act before Nu's replacement got here. "Actually, I was thinking of taking a look around the Holocron Vault," he said as casually as humanly possible. "I mean, I've never had the opportunity before, and now that I'm on the Council I figured I might as well." He could practically feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins; if he'd misunderstood what she'd said earlier, she could end this operation right now.

"Oh," said Bene, her eyes widening. "I've always wanted to look around in there," she said wistfully. "I don't think they'll make  _me_  a Master any time soon, though."

Anakin grinned, flooded with euphoria. "I wouldn't be so sure about that, Bene," he said. He sprang to his feet. "Sometimes, the Force will give you opportunities you'd never see coming."

Bene smiled back at him. "Thanks, Master Skywalker," she said. "I'll keep that in mind." Anakin felt a momentary surge of guilt for his deception of her; she seemed like a genuinely nice girl. He clamped down on it quickly - Padme was more important than this padawan, however nice she was, and anyway, if the Council had any sense they'd realize that the blame for this little encounter lay entirely with Anakin himself.

Not that the Council had been showing very good judgment when it came to pointing fingers, lately.

He walked confidently over to the vault door, hoping that she wouldn't notice how much he was sweating, and raised his hand to the lock. Concentrating hard, he let the Force flow through him, let himself become one with the mechanism. If this was keyed in some way he hadn't noticed to only let certain people in... _Your focus determines your reality_ , the echo of a thousand lectures from Obi-Wan whispered. He closed his eyes, and waved his hand over the lock.  _It_  will  _open_ , he thought. And it did, the dilating security door whirring as it opened itself in front of him.

Anakin turned to Bene, hoping that his smile didn't look as manic as it felt, then waved to her as he stepped through the door into the vault. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Anakin wanting to look in the Holocron Vault for information to save Padme, but being unable to because he was denied the rank of Master, was inspired by Matthew Stover's novelization of Revenge of the Sith. This fic owes a lot to that book, and anyone who hasn't already read it, should.
> 
> Virtual cookies to anyone who knows who Bene is without looking it up.


	2. Action

Stepping through the door into the circular hallway beyond, the first thing Anakin noticed was that the three sets of security lasers between himself and the second dilating door were still on. He frowned - he'd assumed that those would turn off automatically when the door was unlocked.

The second thing he noticed was a beeping noise coming from the far end of the hallway. Through the lasers, he could see a red light flashing next to what looked like an ordinary palm reader. And next to to  _that_  was a panel with a changing display of digital numbers:  _55...54...53..._

Anakin swallowed. _Not good_ , he thought. He looked around frantically, his gaze falling almost immediately on a simple numerical keypad on the wall to his left. Anyone with the access code, he presumed, could just shut off the lasers and walk across the hallway to deactivate the alarm before going into the vault proper. He, on the other hand _...46...45...44..._

What would he do if this was a real mission? Get R2-D2 to turn off the lasers - no, R2 wasn't here, that wasn't a helpful thought, think of something else. _40...39...38..._

Or was it a helpful thought? Anakin himself was the most mechanically savvy non-droid he knew, after all. He knelt down in front of the first set of lasers and sank into the Force. Most Jedi had difficulty sensing machines, but Anakin had always found them far easier to work with than living beings. _Each beam comes from an individual device set into the wall. Each device has its own sensor wired to set off the alarm system if the beam is interrupted._  He focused on one of the beam sources; though he couldn't see it, he could sense it behind the wall. _It's just another machine. If I disconnect this wire here - no, that would set off the alarm. If I disconnect this one, though, and wire the alarm back into itself..._ he reached gently into the the Force and did just that, then, throwing caution to the wind, swiped a finger through the beam he'd just tampered with. Nothing happened. Anakin breathed a sigh of relief, then caught sight of the countdown.  _28...27...26_  and he still had several dozen lasers with alarms still functioning.

Okay. He didn't need to turn off all of them, only enough to make a clear path through. It looked like deactivating three lasers from each set would create a gap large enough for him to fit through, if he was careful. Anakin closed his eyes - there would be no visible difference between the alarmed lasers and the disarmed ones, so sight would only distract him. He focused on each individual alarm in turn, letting himself become one with the system of bolts and wires, and repeated the operation he'd done on the first one. How much time did he have left? Not enough to let himself get distracted by checking. Once finished, he moved into a crouch. Eyes still closed, he visualized the setup in front of him, now with several lasers removed. There was no time to hesitate - he pictured himself diving through the gap, then let the Force guide his body up and forward as he leaped.

He hit the ground, rolled, and sprang forward again. Sensing the last set of lasers in front of him as he landed, Anakin threw himself forward. When he opened his eyes, he had landed crouched in front of the far door, and the numbers read _4...3._  Slamming his flesh hand onto the palm sensor, he hoped against hope that it was just heat sensitive, not only able to recognize specific individuals. It seemed the keypad was supposed to be security enough, because the countdown stopped and the door in front of him whirred open.

Anakin wasn't sure whether to whoop with joy or cry with relief as he stepped into the room. He'd only been inside once before and then only momentarily, shortly after Cad Bane had stolen a holocron. Then, he had been too focused on the bounty hunter to properly appreciate the power that resided within this room. Now, though, he could sense the potency of centuries upon centuries of stored wisdom and knowledge.  _This is what the Jedi have been keeping from me, he thought. This is how they've been holding me back. But not anymore._

Glancing around, it quickly became obvious that the holocrons themselves were not labeled. It occurred to Anakin that he had been so focused on breaking into the Holocron Vault, that he hadn't actually been thinking about what he'd do once he got there. His mind had skipped straight from the break-in to the using his newfound knowledge of Sith healing to save Padme. He walked slowly around the room, letting one hand drag across the holocrons as he passed them. He paused momentarily in front of one shelf, set against the wall, which was seemingly identical to all the others, and was not entirely sure why he had done so. It was as though something was pulling him towards it, purposely trying to grab his attention, sucking him under...the feeling passed, leaving Anakin to wonder where in the Force  _that_  last thought had come from. He was probably just imagining things.

He continued walking. Finally, halfway around the room, he came to a console set into the wall between two of the shelves. It was clearly old, and consisted of just a touch screen and keyboard, with no holographic display. The search interface, which displayed as soon as he turned it on, was simple - Only three options were displayed: search by creator, by content, or by era, with room for up to three keywords in each.

Anakin touched 'creator,' then typed in "Plagueis." The screen flashed ' _No results found_ ,' then sent him back to the main menu. He supposed that wasn't too surprising - these holocrons were supposed to have been made by Jedi, so it made sense that any reports of Plagueis would have to be second-hand. Anakin repeated the search into the 'content' box and hit enter. This time, the screen actually changed to a list of results, and he felt a momentary surge of excitement. The excitement dissipated quickly when he actually read the display: ' _Did you mean:_  plagues?' it asked him mockingly, showing a list of several holocrons that appeared to reference various epidemics that had taken place over the centuries.

Anakin stabbed the 'no' button with his finger harder than was absolutely necessary, and found himself back at the main menu. He frowned and glared at the screen - he hadn't expected to be thwarted this early in his mission. After all, Plagueis was famous enough that even a non-Force-sensitive man like Chancellor Palpatine had heard legends about him, so surely the Jedi had records about him somewhere.

Unless the legend really was just a legend after all. But Palpatine had has seemed so sure when he said that he believed Plagueis really had existed, and Anakin respected the Chancellor's judgment. So why couldn't he find anything?

Maybe the story was true, but the name had been warped as the legend had been passed down from person to person. Maybe he just needed to try a more general search. He touched 'content' again, this time cross-referencing "Sith" with "healing."

A long list of results popped up on the screen. Anakin skimmed through the summaries, getting increasingly frustrated. Most of them seemed to just be holocrons made during the Sith Wars, instructions from long-dead Jedi Masters on how best to treat lightsaber wounds and Sith lighting, and fight off the mental effects of Dark-Side attacks. However, as he neared the end of the list, he found one summary which looked somewhat promising.

_Creator: Master Otara Rholar (healer)._

_Time period: Great Sith War (exact date of creation unknown)_

_Content: Discussion of the philosophy behind Jedi_ _**healing** _ _, how the_ _**Sith** _ _appear to differ with the_ _**healing** _ _techniques of the Dark Side._

It didn't mention Plagueis by name, but at this point Anakin didn't care. The summary, though vague, promised to him information on Sith healing, and that was all he really needed. He pressed his finger against the result and was rewarded with a small pop-up screen reading 'Locate holocron?'

He pressed 'yes' impatiently. The box disappeared, and he was returned to the list of search results.  _What_? he thought.  _How am I supposed to find it?_  He was about to try again when a quiet beep issued from somewhere behind him. Anakin nearly jumped out of his skin, then turned around quickly - if that was an actual Master coming in...

A light on one of the holocrons was flashing. He breathed a sigh of relief and hurried over to it. Pulling it out of its shelf, he sat down cross-legged on the floor and concentrated on using the Force to open it. A three-dimensional holographic image of an older-looking woman, humanoid but clearly not human, appeared.

"My name is Otara Rholar," she said. " _The recent outbreak of violent conflicts against the Sith has caused the occupation of healing to become one in great demand. And while this war has resulted in tragic amounts of unnecessary death and bloodshed, the Force provides for us even in this dark hour. I have been blessed with some insight into the nature of healing which I wish to share with future generations. Though it is a difficult art mastered by only a few, the ability to heal is based on the most simple of principles: recognizing the will of the Force and allowing it to do its work. A Jedi who attempts to impose their own will on the Force will find themselves unable to fix even a minor cut or scrape. But a Jedi who understands that they are merely an instrument of the Force, lets go of their own desires regarding the patient's recovery, and uses their power to enhance the natural healing abilities of the body is capable of helping a patient recover from even the most grievous of injuries - if that is the will of the Force. From this basic principle, we can deduce more specific healing techniques. For example..."_

Anakin tapped his fingers impatiently against the floor. So far, this was just the same stuff he'd been told since the day he arrived at the Temple, the same message that Yoda had given him when he'd asked for advice about his visions: let go, accept the will of the Force,  _whatever_. There had to be something more useful than what the woman was currently droning on about, advice on how to actively fight death, not just hope that it wasn't what the Force had in mind.

He was seriously considering turning off the holocron and searching for one more to his liking when the holographic image said something that caught his attention.

" _We are aware that the Sith too use the Force to cure physical ailments_ ," she said.  _"Indeed, my own apprentice asked me other day why it seems that our Sith enemies are so difficult to kill, why some are able to survive what ought to be mortal wounds. Though I have never had the chance to observe Sith healing for myself, I do have some speculation." Anakin sat up straight, listening eagerly. "I believe that Sith healing rituals, whatever they may be, go against the will of the Force. The Sith do not care for what is natural, or what is right, and they refuse to accept that their own judgment of who ought to live or die is inferior to that of the Force. For this reason, they are capable of producing what appear to be medical miracles, but what in reality are unnatural perversions of the cycle of life and death. Such a corruption of the Force's will would undoubtedly twist and darken the soul of both the practitioner and the patient, for the reward of only a brief reprieve on the physical plane. It is not a gift that I or any true Jedi would wish for_."

Anakin growled in frustration, closing the holocron. He wanted concrete instructions on how to prevent death, not a lecture on bowing to the will of the Force! Palpatine had been right, earlier that evening. The Chancellor's words echoed in his head, brutally honest: " _This is the true reason the Sith have always been more powerful than the Jedi. The Jedi fear the dark side.._." And later, when he'd asked where he could learn Plagueis's powers: " _Not from a Jedi_." At the time, he'd assumed that meant that the Jedi would never agree to teach him that sort of power. Now, he wondered if there fear was so great that they'd refused to even learn or keep records of it. No wonder they were losing this war, if the Council was too afraid of even hearing about different ways to use the Force to understand their own enemies.

But that would mean that he was back at square one, with no way to save Padme. It would mean that this whole break-in had been pointless, that everything was pointless. There had to be something helpful in this room, there just had to be! But he was beginning to suspect that he had been wrong about the Jedi all this time. They weren't keeping the secrets to true power from him in order to hold him back; they were too narrow-minded to even accept the fact that those secrets existed.

He returned to the search console, the icy fear of failure beginning to settle into his stomach. Scrolling through the few remaining search results didn't take much time as all looked useless to him. Okay, back to plan A, what he'd originally thought about asking Obi-Wan's help in searching for. This time, he searched for "healing" cross-referenced with "childbirth."

Only three results. It seemed that since Jedi didn't have children themselves, they didn't care much about the process. The first was a complete waste, a discussion of how to get in touch with the Living Force by witnessing "miracles from the Force like accelerated healing and childbirth." The second contained instructions on how to use healing to alleviate pain in situations such as serious injury or childbirth. Also not good enough. He read the description for the third holocron.

_Creator: Qira Verbenti_

_Time Period: 600 A.T.C_

_Content: A collection of insights Master Verbenti gained over the course of his lifetime, addressing such topics as the nature of the midichlorians, how the length of time between_ _**childbirth** _ _and the arrival of Jedi can affect a parent's decision to give their child up for training, the soul-_ _**healing** _ _abilities of frequent meditation, and others._

No. No, there had to be something he was missing. Anakin stalked angrily away from the console, pacing from one part of the room to another and back again, staring at the holocrons desperately as though he could tell which was the key to saving Padme just by looking. He found himself stopped in front the shelf which had caught his attention when he'd first come into the room. Once again, he felt the distinct sensation of being drawn toward it as though by a magnet. Perhaps the Force was trying to tell him something. He ran his hand over the shelf, methodically touching each holocron in turn. None in particular seemed to jump out at his senses, so he grabbed one at random and opened it.

 _"I am Master Kaz Pavish,_ " said the reptilian-looking man who appeared.  _"I wish to discuss the effects that instituting formal trials for Knighthood has had on the Order, so that we may remember-_ " Anakin shut the holocron down and returned it to its shelf; that was probably a fascinating topic of information to someone with no life at all, but not to him. Frustrated, he selected another holocron and opened it.

The holographic figure that appeared only got as far as _"Some speak of the Living and Unifying Forces as though they are two separate entities, but only by understanding how they are the same can a Jedi truly-"_  before Anakin closed the holocron and shoved it back into it's place on the shelf.

His mind must have been playing tricks on him, he realized. There was nothing useful on that shelf any more than there had been on any of the others. He stumbled across the room and slammed his hand against the wall. He had failed. He had failed Padme as badly as he'd failed his mother three years ago; she was going to die and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not even the combined wisdom of millennia worth of Jedi Masters could teach him how to stop death.

Anakin sank to his knees. The hope that he'd felt earlier that evening when Palpatine had first mentioned the ability to keep people from dying had drained out of him, leaving only anguish and exhaustion in its place. He had nowhere to go from here, no backup plan. He'd pinned all his hopes on finding information about Plagueis, and now that he'd failed, he suddenly couldn't see past the crushing black of despair to even attempt to think of another way.

Anakin's eyes burned with tiredness and oncoming tears. He shut them, only to be greeted by the sight of Padme's screaming face. The visions, it seemed, were not content to attack him only when sleeping. He forced his eyes back open, feeling the inevitability of her death pressing down upon him.

There was nothing he could do.  _She's going to die,_  a voice whispered to him, whether from the Force or from his own imagination, he couldn't tell.  _All things die, Anakin Skywalker. Even stars burn out. Even yours. Even hers. And when she does burn out, you'll be able to do nothing to stop it._

Some Chosen One he'd turned out to be, unable to do anything to prevent his own wife's death. Anakin pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.  _Pathetic_ , he thought at himself, but couldn't summon the energy to move. Feeling exhausted, hopeless, and very alone, he buried his face against his knees and began to cry.

He didn't move from that position until the door to the vault opened and Mace Windu strode in.


	3. Discovery

_Earlier that night:_

Awake despite the late hour, Obi-Wan Kenobi was meditating when he got the comm call from Mace Windu. " _Obi-Wan. Your presence is required in the Temple Archives_ ," the Korun Master said, and there was something ominous in his clipped tone. " _Come_  immediately." His holographic image disappeared before Obi-Wan could reply.

The Archives? At this time of night? Obi-Wan didn't know why he could possibly be needed there, or what had caused the stress he'd sensed from the older man. What he did know, he reflected as he stood up and exited his quarters, was that he had a very bad feeling about this.

* * *

A group had already gathered in the Archives rotunda by the time he arrived. Besides Mace, he could see Jocasta Nu, Kit Fisto, Shaak Ti, Agen Kolar, Saesee Tiin, and a female padawan whom he only vaguely recognized. They were clustered around a console, and all looked up when he entered. Mace hit a button, turning off the display before he could get a look at it.

"What's going on?" he asked, and frowned in confusion as the gathered Masters shifted uncomfortably, shooting each other glances he couldn't interpret. His bad feeling intensified.

"Someone has broken into the Holocron Vault," Madame Nu said eventually. "I received an alert when the lock was opened by someone with an unauthorized Force signature. As per the usual security measures, the vault locked has locked itself automatically from the outside to prevent the trespasser from leaving."

"An  _intruder_?" Obi-Wan was shocked. Then the meaning of her words hit him. The invader was able to use the Force, which meant..."Is it the Sith?" he asked breathlessly. Could they have possibly have trapped the enemy they'd been searching for for so long without even trying?

Once again, he sensed discomfort from the gathered group. "No," Mace replied. "It's a Jedi."

 _What_? That didn't make any sense. Why would anyone do that, especially at a dark time like this? He opened his mouth to ask who it was, and was hit with a sudden sensation of foreboding. The way the other Masters were looking at him, at him  _specifically_ , with expressions a mixture of sorrow and accusation...and he realized he didn't really have to ask. "No," he said, more to himself than to the others. "No, he wouldn't. Anakin may be- but he  _wouldn't_ \- he's not-''

Wordlessly, Mace touched a button and a security holograph of the Holocron Vault appeared. And the figure that was standing in front of the search console, an expression of grim determination on his face, was quite recognizably Anakin Skywalker.  _Oh, Anakin_ , Obi-Wan thought in horrified desperation. _What have you done this time?_  He broke into a cold sweat - breaking into the Holocron Vault was an offence that Anakin could actually get expelled for, just as Lorian Nod had been all those decades ago.

He took a deep breath. "How did he get in? I thought there was always at least one guard." he asked, voice not quite as even as he would have liked it to be. In response, everyone looked at the padawan, who flushed and ducked her head.

"I didn't know," she said. "I'd heard he had been put on the Council, and I assumed he'd been made a Master as well. I didn't know he wasn't allowed to go in." She looked nervous, clearly uncomfortable with the scrutiny of so many Masters.

Obi-Wan sighed. "A mistake anyone could have made," he said gently. "Do not worry yourself about it young one. You're not in trouble. Just... _check_  next time." She nodded quickly.

"The way he got past the lasers is actually somewhat impressive," admitted Mace. "However, what concerns me more is  _this_." He rewound the recording until Anakin disappeared from the room, then allowed it to play. The holographic Anakin entered, then began making his way around the room, pausing eventually in front of one of the shelves.

Obi-Wan's breath caught. "Mace, he doesn't know," he said quickly. "He has no idea that we even have Sith holocrons, let alone where they are. He stopped because he sensed something, or it's just a coincidence, he can't actually  _know_."

"Perhaps," said Mace, then hit another button. The display jumped back to a live feed. Anakin hadn't moved, but he now wore a look of frustration.

"Let me talk to him," said Obi-Wan. "I'm sure there's an explanation for all this."

Mace shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, but he must be treated objectively according to his actions, and you're too close to him to do that. Anyways, we're not going in to talk to him, not yet. We're going to wait and see which holocrons he opens, or takes, so that he cannot hide his true intentions later."

"Hide his true intentions," Obi-Wan repeated incredulously. "He's not a  _criminal_  or a spy, Mace. He's just- well, I don't know. Look, this is hardly the first time he's broken the Temple's rules, and while I agree that he ought to learn to respect them, it doesn't make him a bad person. Just...misguided."

"Misguided?" Mace asked. "Obi-Wan, he's not just a padawan causing trouble by sneaking out of the Temple at night anymore. He's a grown man, old enough to know better than to break into a room that is kept restricted for a reason. This is a serious offence, Obi-Wan. And it shows a disturbing lack of regard for his commitment to the Jedi, particularly in light of his recent attitude towards the Council."

"You can't possibly be suggesting that Anakin is  _disloyal_ ," said Obi-Wan, not sure whether to be horrified or angry at the suggestion. "He may be disobedient, but he has never given any reason to doubt his allegiance to the Order." An image of Padme Amidala flashed briefly in his mind; he pushed it away.

"Mace has a point," said Agen Kolar, sounding uncomfortable. "His response to being denied the title of Master was one of outright contempt and fury, far beyond the occasional disrespect he has shown in the past."

"And you yourself warned me that his personal loyalty to the Chancellor might interfere with his ability to do his duty," Mace added. "He isn't entirely  _stable_ , Obi-Wan."

"Um," said the padawan girl quietly. "I, I think, with all due respect-"

"Speak up, padawan," said Mace. "If you have something relevant to add, you may do so."

She nodded and stood up a little straighter. "I think Master Kenobi is right," she said.

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Thank you, er..."

"Bene," she said.

"Do you have a reason for agreeing with him, Bene?" asked Shaak.

"Well..." she hesitated, then spoke confidently. "I don't think he had some big plan to break in or anything. I mean, he couldn't have known I was going to mistake him for a Master. And it wasn't until I referred to him that way that he said anything about going into the Archives. Plus, he didn't...he didn't  _feel_  like he was doing anything treacherous."

Obi-Wan exchanged a glance with Mace. "Did you sense anything else from him, young one?" he asked.

She considered this. "I think he was sad, at first," she said after a moment. "I mean, I only went up to talk to him because he seemed upset. And then when he talked about going into the Archives - it did feel like he was holding something back, but at the time I just figured it was secret Council business. Now I guess I know it's not...but it definitely didn't feel malicious. Whatever he's doing in there, I think he thinks it's the right thing."

Before any of them could respond to that, Madame Nu spoke sharply. "He's getting a holocron," she said. Sure enough, the Anakin in the image was holding a holocron and sitting down on the vault floor.  
"There," Obi-Wan said, relieved. "Now we know what he was trying to get. Let's go in and see what it is."

"No," Mace said again. "We saw which holocron he took, we can always figure out which it was even if he puts it back. But we don't know that that's the only thing he went in there for. We'll wait until he attempts to leave before we go in, to make sure he's really finished. He may think he has good intentions, but I'm not so sure we can trust his judgment of what 'good' is."

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth in frustration. "Fine," he said.

"Maybe we're looking at this from the wrong direction," Saesee Tiin said suddenly. "We discussed the idea that his earlier insolence towards the Council might be proof that this is an act of subversion, but what if it's the other way around?"

Mace frowned. "Explain," he said.

"Anakin's angry at the Council," Saesee said. "And Bene is right that this break-in seems opportunistic. So maybe her mistaking his rank renewed his outrage over the perceived injustice of not becoming a Master, and he decided to break the rules as an act of defiance."

"Anakin is a lot of things," Obi-Wan said, "but he's not  _stupid_. Mace is right, he's not a padawan anymore. He wouldn't risk his place in the Order for an show of petty rebellion. Especially not when he knows how focused we need to be right now with ending the war and catching the Sith."

"Do you have a better idea?" Mace asked.

"Well, no," admitted Obi-Wan.

"Or perhaps getting into the Holocron Vault was his goal from the beginning," Shaak said. "His display of temper in the Council chamber was unusually aggressive, even for him. Maybe he had counted on becoming a Master in order to get access to the vault."

The idea made an uncomfortable amount of sense to Obi-Wan - though Anakin had been lobbying to become a Master for months now, he'd never shown anything close to the amount of rage he'd shown yesterday at being denied the rank.

The group lapsed into silence as the display showed Anakin returning the holocron to its place, then stalking back to the search station, looking frustrated. Nothing happened for a good two minutes, then the holographic Anakin began pacing randomly around the room, zig-zagging from one side to the other. He stopped abruptly, again in front of the shelf against the wall behind which lay the chamber of Sith holocrons.

Obi-Wan's heart stopped. "He doesn't know," he repeated. "It doesn't mean anything, he doesn't know what's behind there." But he could feel the condemnation coming off the other Masters in waves, could see the accusation written on their faces as they watched his former apprentice examine the hiding place of one of the Jedi Order's most closely kept secrets. This time, the silence felt almost oppressive as they watched Anakin remove and open two holocrons in quick succession, seemingly at random.

After what felt like an eternity, Anakin stepped away from the shelf. Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. "See," he said. "He just felt a disturbance and was trying to figure out where it was coming from. That's all."

His relief turned to concern as Anakin walked unsteadily across the room and struck the wall with his flesh hand. Even through a hologram, the pain and misery written on his face were clear as he sank to his knees. His earlier determination seemed to have disappeared suddenly, replaced by an expression of pure devastation. Obi-Wan was torn between the urge to run in there and hug him and tell him everything would be all right, and the urge to shake him and demand to know what problem he had possibly expected to solve by doing something as drastic and reckless as this.

"Are we really going to just stand here and watch this, Master Windu?" he asked quietly. "Surely you can see that he's not going to do anything else incriminating."

As if to further Obi-Wan's point, the virtual Anakin broke down even further and pulled himself into a tight ball. He looked as though he might be crying.

"Fierfek," Mace muttered, now sounding more disturbed than angry. "All right, we'll go in now. Padawan, you're dismissed."

The rest of the assorted Jedi Masters followed him to the vault door. He unlocked it, then turned to face the others. "I go in first - the rest of you stay in the hallway until I've determined the situation. If he is somehow trying to act against us, I don't want to take the chance of startling him with too many people given how desperate he appears to be. Wait out of sight. Obi-Wan, I do want you to be near the front. Be prepared to try to calm him down if necessary."

Obi-Wan nodded, not sure whether to be glad that Mace understood that he had the best chance of pacifying Anakin, frustrated at not being allowed to go in first (he knew that Anakin would react better to a friendly face), or irritated that Mace was still apparently thinking of Anakin as a threat.

He followed Mace into the hallway, mentally steeling himself for whatever scenario was about to play out.  _I hope you know what you're doing, Anakin,_  he thought. _I may not be able to shield you from trouble this time, my friend._  For all that Anakin had been Knighted, Obi-Wan still couldn't help but think of the younger man as his responsibility. And he'd come to realize that his greatest responsibility was to protect Anakin from himself.

He just hoped that he wasn't too late.


	4. Aftermath

The footsteps of Mace Windu's entrance into the room barely even registered with Anakin until the older man spoke. "Skywalker," he said. "I hope you understand how much trouble you're in right now."

To Anakin, getting caught just seemed like further proof of how much the Force hated him at the moment. He choked back a sob, not wanting to appear weak, though he was pretty sure Windu already knew that he'd been crying. _In trouble? You have no idea how much trouble I'm in,_  he thought. "Go away," he said aloud, not looking up. He was already miserable enough, he didn't want to deal with the Council on top of everything else.

"Go away?" Windu repeated incredulously. "I'm the one who's actually permitted to be in here. You, on the other hand, are trespassing."

"Whatever," Anakin muttered, curling up more tightly on the floor.

"Not  _whatever_ ," said Windu. "Do you understand that the punishment for breaking into the Holocron Vault is expulsion? That's what you're facing right now, so sit up and give me a damn good explanation for what you're doing in here!"

The last thing Anakin wanted was to think about why he'd broken in, to think about the future which lay in store for Padme. Not to mention the fact that he'd  _definitely_  get expelled if Windu knew the whole story. "I don't want to," he said.

Strong hands gripped his shoulders, forcing him to sit upright until he found himself looking at the grim face of the Jedi Master crouching in front of him. "Are you even listening to me? You. Will. Be.  _Expelled_."

"I don't care," Anakin said. He'd known that his place in the Jedi Order might be forfeit from the moment that he'd decided to break into the Archives, and he honestly couldn't say he cared about  _anything_  if Padme really couldn't be saved.

His answer was clearly unexpected to Windu, who rocked back slightly on his heels, then for some reason glanced back at the hallway he'd come out of. "Anakin," he said, in a gentler tone than before, "just tell me why you're in here. The Council may choose to be lenient if you confess what you're doing freely. We just need to know what you were looking for."

In other circumstances, Anakin might have laughed at the idea that the Council would ever be lenient with  _him_  - they were always finding ways to get him in trouble, always trying to hold him back. "It doesn't matter what I was looking for, okay," he said, voice cracking. "I didn't find anything useful, so it doesn't matter, I don't care. If you're going to kick me out, then get it over with. I don't care."

"I don't think you mean that," Windu said quietly. "Get up. We'll continue this in the Council chamber."

Realizing that there was probably no way for him to get out of this, and wanting to get it over with as soon as possible so he could get back to Padme, Anakin stood up. He was immediately hit by a wave of dizziness, much stronger than the one he'd experienced earlier that evening, and swayed on his feet.  Reaching out blindly for something to steady himself on, his hand came in contact with the wall, and he was able to sit back down without falling over.

"Anakin!" Was that really Obi-Wan's voice, or was he just hallucinating? He blinked, feeling disoriented, vision clearing enough to show his former Master darting over to him and crouching by his side. Several other Masters had also appeared in the room, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Master," he said, reaching out to clutch at Obi-Wan's robes as relief washed over him. Maybe Obi-Wan would know how to fix this - he'd always been good at handling the things that Anakin couldn't. Or at the very least, maybe he would be able to get everyone to just leave Anakin alone.

"Anakin? Are you all right?" He could hear the concern in Obi-Wan's voice, and wished he knew how to explain that it was unnecessary -  _Padme_  was the one in danger, not him.

"I'm fine," he said, but he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He'd been drawing on the Force to make up for his lack of rest over the past week, and now he just didn't care enough to summon the energy.

"We should get him to the healers," Windu said from somewhere behind Obi-Wan. "I don't think we'll get any answers out of him in this state."

"No!" Anakin said quickly. "I'm fine, I don't need to go to the healers, I'm just tired. I haven't eaten much today, that's all." He couldn't go to the healers; he really should get back to Padme.

Windu crossed his arms. "If you're fine - and you're clearly  _not_ , by the way - then you should be capable of telling us what you were doing down here."

Anakin hesitated. Should he just tell? If he did, they'd almost definitely excommunicate him. But then at least he'd be able to be with Padme. Although it would also mean losing Obi-Wan, and not being able to help the Chancellor end the war, and not having access to any other Jedi resources which might help Padme.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said gently. "You said it didn't matter because you couldn't find whatever it was you were looking for, correct?"

Anakin nodded.

"If you tell us, we might be able to help you," Obi-Wan continued. "Yes, you'll still be in trouble for coming in here without permission. But if the Council decides that your... _quest_...was for a legitimate purpose, then there's no reason not for us to aid you in it once the other current crises are over and your punishment has been decided."

"I don't think you can help me, Obi-Wan," Anakin said. "I don't think anyone can."  _At least, no Jedi can,_  he thought.  _Palpatine was right about that._

Obi-Wan frowned. "What makes you think that? The Council may have made some decisions of late that you've disagreed with, but that doesn't mean we cannot offer you valid advice in this matter."

Anakin laughed hollowly. "I don't think it, Obi-Wan. I  _know_  it, because I already know the advice the Council would give me. I went to Yoda before he left for Kashyyyk, and he wouldn't tell me anything useful."

"Yoda refused to help you? That seems unlike him." Windu said.

Obi-Wan nodded thoughtfully. "What exactly did he say?" he asked. "Perhaps you misunderstood him."

"Pretty much exactly what  _you_  once said when I came to you with a similar problem," Anakin said, anger filling him as suddenly as his earlier hopelessness had. "So I doubt you'll be able to offer me any new guidance."

Obi-Wan looked even more confused. "What? What did he-"

"He told me to not worry about it," Anakin cut in, the words spilling furiously out of his mouth before he could stop them. "To let go of what I fear to lose. He said I shouldn't even try to do anything, I should just let what is going to happen, happen. For all intents and purposes, he told me that  _dreams pass in time._  And unless you're able to give me something that's actually  _useful_ , I'd rather not hear your advice."

A look of horror crossed Obi-Wan's face; behind him, Mace Windu just looked confused. "Oh, Anakin," Obi-Wan breathed. "Have you been having visions again?" At Anakin's nod, his expression turned into one of hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"I couldn't. I - I  _can't_ ," Anakin stuttered. "The visions, they're - they're about a person, and if I explained about them, I'd have to tell you - it's not just about me, it's not just my secret to tell, nobody's supposed to know." Panic started to descend on him again.  _They can't find out, they can't. Padme would lose her position in the Senate, I'd be expelled..._

"And you're absolutely sure they're visions, not just nightmares?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Yes, I'm kriffing sure," Anakin burst out. "They feel different, I recognize it from last time. And they happen all the time, the same thing over and over again, every time I close my eyes. I don't even have to be asleep to have them anymore."

Obi-Wan placed his hand on Anakin's shoulder soothingly. "Anakin," he said. "In your visions, does someone get hurt?"

Anakin nodded, miserable. "They - they die."

"And you don't want to tell us the details because you're trying to keep one of this person's secrets, to protect them?" Obi-Wan continued.

Anakin nodded again.

"Anakin, do you honestly believe that this person would rather die than have their secret be found out?"

Anakin hesitated. "No," he said eventually. Padme had urged him to tell Obi-Wan earlier, after all. Maybe she had been right. Better that they both lose their jobs, than Padme lose her life. Better  _anything_  than that.

"Well, then," Obi-Wan said encouragingly. "Can you at least tell us who they're about?"

Anakin swallowed. "Padme," he choked out. "They're about Padme Amidala."

Obi-Wan went white. " _Padme_? Anakin, I'm so sorry."

"Wait a minute," Windu cut in. "Padme Amidala is going to die? The Senator? Skywalker, why didn't you tell us immediately?"

Here it came. Anakin took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to say. Would Obi-Wan be disappointed in him? Angry? Would the Council be horrified at his actions, or would they be glad for an excuse to finally get rid of him? "In my visions," he said, "she dies in childbirth. Padme's pregnant, and the reason I couldn't just tell you is that I-"

"You wanted to protect her," Obi-Wan interrupted hastily. "You knew that she'd be in political trouble if she was found to be pregnant out of wedlock. I see." He looked even paler than before.

"Um, yeah," Anakin said. He supposed it was as good of an excuse as any.

Windu looked over his shoulder at the Masters standing behind him. "Check what he was searching for," he ordered.

Shaak Ti went over to the search console. "He was looking up 'healing' and 'childbirth'," she reported.

"And the holocron he listened to?" Windu asked.

She walked over to where Anakin had taken out the first holocron and opened it up. _"My name is Otara Rholar,"_  the holographic figure said.  _"The recent outbreak of violent conflicts against the Sith has caused the occupation of healing to become one in great demand. And while this war has resulted in tragic amounts of unnecessary death and bloodshed, the Force provides for us even in this dark hour. I have been blessed with some insight into the nature of healing which I wish to share with future generations..."_

Shaak shut down the holocron. "Just researching healing methods," she said. "A foolish and ill-advised search, as I don't know why he expected to find anything the Temple healers don't already know, but hardly a treacherous one. I believe his story."

Windu sighed. "All right," he said. "Well, Skywalker, this half-baked scheme is possibly the most idiotic thing that you've ever done - I'm not sure which was more foolish, refusing to follow Yoda's advice or honestly thinking we had secret healing methods that we don't already use. But I suppose, in light of your good intentions, that you will not be expelled."

Anakin was less relieved than Windu obviously expected him to be. "But what about Padme?" he asked. "Will you help me save her?"

Windu frowned at him. "I cannot change the will of the Force any more than you can," he said. "If there were an obvious way to prevent her death - if the vision had been of an assassination attempt, say - then we would, of course, take steps. But I don't think there is anything to be done to prevent death by natural causes, other than ensuring that she has access to modern medical facilities, which she already does. Master Yoda had a point, Anakin. You must accept the fact that she may become one with the Force no matter what you do."

Anakin glared at him, furious.  _Never_. "Why would the Force give me these visions if I wasn't supposed to stop them from coming true?" he demanded. "I've barely gotten any sleep in the past week because they come so often, they  _must_  be important."

"What's important right now is finding the Sith Lord," Windu replied. "Or had you forgotten that you have an actual mission to be working on?"

Anakin was silent.

"Is the Senator due to give birth in the next few days?" asked Windu.

"No," he admitted, "but what if she's  _early_ -"

Windu interrupted him. "Then right now, you should be focusing on your mission to... _report to_...the Chancellor until we've ended this war. If, in your free time, you wish to meditate on these visions and come up with a clearer idea of if and how the Force means you to prevent them, you may do so. Hell, if you can figure out who the Sith Lord is, I'll meditate _with_ you once he's been destroyed. But right now, you have an assignment, and we all have higher priorities."

 _There is no higher priority,_  Anakin thought. _Not to me._  "I can focus on both at the same time," he said.

Windu raised an eyebrow and gestured around the room. "Clearly, that's not true. You allowed your fear - your  _attachment_  - to your friend the Senator to cloud your judgment when you decided to break in here. You are a Jedi, Skywalker. Your duty  _must_  come first, especially if you truly wish to someday become a Master."

 _Duty, duty, duty_. It seemed like that was all anyone cared about these days, and everyone - Palpatine, Padme, Obi-Wan - had a different idea of what Anakin's duty was. Duty to the Republic, to democracy, to the Order.  _But they're all wrong,_  he thought.  _My duty is to my wife and child._  "Yes, Master Windu," he said aloud. "I will do my duty."

"Not in the state you're in right now," Obi-Wan said. "Anakin, go to the healers. Perhaps they can find a way to allow you to sleep without the visions disturbing your rest."

"I'll make that an order," said Windu. "You look like hell. It would be unfortunate if you were to faint in the middle of a meeting with a Chancellor."

Anakin glared at him. He wasn't going to  _faint_. On the other hand, Obi-Wan actually had a point. He might be able to think more clearly about Padme's situation if he wasn't so sleep deprived. "Fine," he said, and allowed Obi-Wan to help him to his feet.

Windu glanced around at the other Masters. "The rest of you are dismissed," he told them. Once the three of them had been left alone in the room, he turned back to Anakin. "I just want to make this clear to you that this isn't over. What you did tonight was a very serious breach of conduct, no matter what your intentions were. While you won't be expelled, you can be assured that the Council will discuss what the consequences for you will be once the the situations with the war and the Sith have been resolved."

Anakin nodded. "I understand, Master Windu."

"Good," Windu said. "Obi-Wan, take him to the Halls of Healing, and tell them not to let him out until they're sure he isn't going to collapse again. He needs to be alert if he's going to keep an eye on Palpatine."

"Believe me, I had no intention of doing anything else, Master Windu," Obi-Wan replied.

"Excuse me," cut in Anakin. "I am standing right here, you know."

They both ignored him. Windu bowed slightly and said, "Goodnight, Obi-Wan. Skywalker." He departed, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan alone in the room.

For a moment, there was silence. Of all the Jedi who might be furious at him for what he'd done tonight, there was only one whose opinion Anakin cared about. "So," he said. "How angry are you, Master?"

"A Jedi does not feel anger-" Obi-Wan started.

"Oh,  _come on,_  Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan sighed. "Angry is not the right word, Anakin. Disappointed, perhaps, that you chose to take this action when you ought to have known better. That you were willing to throw away all that I have taught you and risk your place in the Order. And saddened, that you did not trust me enough to confide in me about your visions. I would have helped you, Anakin. Padme is my friend, and I learned from my mistake three years ago to take your visions seriously."

Anakin swallowed, trying to ignore the burning in his eyes and throat. Obi-Wan was absolutely right; he  _should_  have known better. Should have trusted in his best friend. He lowered his gaze to stare at the floor. "Master, I-"

"And yet," Obi-Wan continued, "I find that I am not  _surprised_  by your actions. You have always been extremely loyal to those you care about - yes, sometimes to the point of disobeying orders or risking a mission in order to help them. And as I am the recipient of that help more often than not, it would seem unjust for me to judge you  _too_  harshly for doing the same thing for Padme Amidala."

Anakin looked back up at him, the guilt which had been threatening to overwhelm him suddenly replaced with hope.

"I forgive you for what you did tonight, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "All I ask in return is that you be honest with me about what you're going through. I'd prefer not to get blindsided like that again."

Anakin nodded quickly. "I promise, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan smiled at him. "Come along, then," he said. "Let's go to the healers. We can talk once all of this is over."

Anakin took one last look around the vault. Strange, that he'd put so much hope into finding answers in this room only a few hours earlier. But maybe the adventure hadn't been a total waste, if Obi-Wan was willing to help him. And clinging to that shred of optimism, he followed Obi-Wan back out into the Archives proper and down to the Halls of Healing.


	5. Night

There was no logical reason for Obi-Wan to still be in the Halls of Healing. He'd stayed while Anakin had been looked over by Vokara Che, who'd taken only a few seconds to scan him before diagnosing him with  _"_ an incurable case of idiocy." She'd then turned to Obi-Wan and said "Stars' End, Kenobi, didn't you ever teach the boy that the Force is no substitute for food and rest? I'm surprised he lasted this long without collapsing."

Obi-Wan had his own suspicions about what was weighing on Anakin's mind, but in front of the healers was hardly the best place to bring it up, so he said nothing.

As there seemed to be nothing medically wrong with Anakin beyond stress-related fatigue, Master Che had given him a sedative in the hopes that it would allow him to sleep without dreaming. Anakin was currently out cold, and had been for a good twenty minutes, so Obi-Wan wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't yet returned to his own quarters - Anakin was, after all, not the only one who ought to get some sleep.

"Was there anything else you needed, Master Kenobi?" Vokara Che asked him.

"No," he replied immediately, then paused. "Actually, yes," he said a moment later. "Vokara, have you ever seen something like this in another Jedi having prophetic visions? The frequency and intensity of them, I mean, to the point of driving the Jedi in question to exhaustion."

She was silent for a few seconds, considering. "Prophetic visions outside of meditation are hardly common occurrences, Obi-Wan," she said. "But...no, I haven't seen or heard of anything like it. It would seem counterproductive for the Force to grant someone visions of the future, only to tire them past the point of being able to do anything about it."

"My thoughts exactly," said Obi-Wan. "The last time Anakin had visions whilst asleep, they didn't have  _this_ bad of an effect on him. And as the content of the visions is comparable to the last ones, it seems unlikely that  _only_  worry over them coming true has made such a marked difference. While I suppose it's possible that it's simply stress taking its toll on him from his current assignment, I can't help feeling that there's something else at work here."

She frowned. "Something like what?"

Obi-Wan turned away from her, letting his gaze fall on Anakin's sleeping form. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "But I have a feeling that it's important I find out."

"Well, let me know if you find any answers," Vokara told him. "I'm afraid I have some other patients I should check on at the moment."

Obi-Wan had no idea where to start looking for answers, and Master Che didn't get the chance to attend to her other patients. Mere seconds after she had turned away from him, he found his answer - or perhaps the Force had simply taken pity on him and decided to respond to his question. He was abruptly filled with an icy, ominous sensation not unlike the one he had felt the times he had faced Dooku or Ventress. Vokara Che stopped in her tracks, then whirled around clearly as startled as he was by the smothering feeling of foreboding.

And Anakin began to shift around on his bed, moaning and muttering under his breath.

"The dark side," Obi-Wan breathed in astonishment.  _But how? Why?_ He shook himself out of his dazed feeling of confusion and hurried to Anakin's bedside, Vokara Che only steps behind him.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, shaking him by the shoulder. "Anakin, wake up." But Anakin wouldn't wake. Obi-Wan shook him harder, calling his name - there was still no response.

"The sedative," Vokara said. "It's keeping him asleep." She turned sharply and strode away from the bed.

The feeling of  _wrongness_  intensified, and Anakin's mumbles turned into incoherent cries as he tossed and turned. Obi-Wan decided to try a different approach. He sat down on the side of Anakin's bed, pinning the younger Jedi's flailing arms with his own to avoid getting hit, and closed his eyes in concentration.

Focusing on the training bond which connected him to Anakin, never severed despite the fact that Anakin hadn't been his apprentice in a long while, he reached out with the Force. His attempt to waken Anakin, or calm him at the very least, was met with an incoherant maelstrom of emotion. The sensation of  _fearangerdeathwronghelplessnessterrorfury_ was overpowering, and for a moment he recoiled, unable to do anything but mentally shield himself against it. Once he'd recovered, he reached out once again.  _Anakin, listen to me, it's just a dream. Wake up._  But the deluge of emotions didn't cease, and Obi-Wan was just about to give up and withdraw from Anakin's mind when he felt Anakin abruptly jolt into consciousness.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see his former apprentice sitting up and gasping for breath, his eyes wild and his shirt...wet? He glanced around to see Vokara Che standing behind him, an empty glass in her hand.

"Ice water," she explained. "Sometimes the simplest ways are the most effective." Obi-Wan nodded in understanding, then turned back to face Anakin.

Anakin seemed to have recovered slightly - his eyes, at least, were focused, though his hands were clenched tightly in the bedsheets and he was still breathing heavily. "So much, for d-dreamless, sleep," he panted.

Obi-Wan gripped his shoulder lightly. "Was this dream the same as the others?" he asked gently.

Anakin nodded absently, his eyes focused somewhere off in the distance. "I saw her in pain. Dying." He glanced up at Obi-Wan, brows furrowing in confusion. " _You_  were there, this time. I haven't seen you there before."

"Oh," said Obi-Wan, not entirely sure how to respond to that. "Er, perhaps it means that now we're aware of the danger, she'll have the child here, in the Temple? These are the finest medical facilities on the planet, after all."

"It doesn't matter," Anakin said, voice flat. "She still was dying."

"Right," Obi-Wan said, feeling rather uncomfortable. "Well, I suppose we'll have to come up with some other solution, then."

"Yes," said Anakin, and there was something about his tone that sent a shiver running up Obi-Wan's spine. "We  _will_  find another way."

Obi-Wan supposed he should at least take some comfort in the fact that Anakin had said  _we_  instead of  _I,_  he didn't much relish the prospect of finding out about the man's next desperate scheme the way he'd found out about this one - after the fact. Still, there was something about Anakin's single-minded resolve that troubled him for reasons he couldn't quite explain. Thankfully, Master Che intervened before the situation could become any more uncomfortable.

"Lie back down," she snapped at Anakin. "Dreams or no, you need rest."

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Trust me, I'm not going to be able to get back to sleep after  _that_ ," he said. "Besides, this shirt is kind of uncomfortable." He pulled at the drenched fabric pointedly.

"I'll go get you a new one," Obi-Wan volunteered. He needed a few minutes alone to think over what had just happened, and this seemed as good an opportunity as any.

* * *

When Obi-Wan returned to the healer's ward a good half an hour later, he brought back more than just a new shirt.

"I hope you have a good reason for getting me back out of bed, Obi-Wan," said Mace Windu as they neared the room Anakin was staying in. "We already knew he was having nightmares, so I don't see how the fact that you witnessed one should be any big surprise."

"It'll be easier to explain in a moment," said Obi-Wan. "I think Anakin should be there for this conversation." He entered the room, then stopped short. "Or perhaps not," he said.

It appeared that Anakin was, once again, passed out. "It seems the sedative was still affecting him," explained Vokara Che, who had managed to come up behind them without either noticing. "Besides, his body badly needs the rest. As I said before, it's a miracle he managed not to sleep for as long as he did." She moved on before either could respond, down the hallway and into the room of another patient.

"Well?" Mace asked. "Are you going to explain why you called me here, or are we going to sit around all night and wait for the boy to wake up?"

Obi-Wan sighed, shaking his head. "No, I might as well tell you," he said, tossing the now-unnecessary shirt aside. "What disturbed me wasn't the fact that he had a vision - as you said, we already knew that they happened. It was what I sensed  _while_ he had the dream that bothered me."

Mace looked intrigued. "Okay. Go on."

"I know this is going to sound odd," Obi-Wan said. "But I'm sure I felt the presence of the dark side. It was like a wave of malevolence - no, like a sentient presence, one that was deliberately attacking Anakin. I can't explain it."

Mace frowned. "That is...disturbing," he said slowly. "If these visions are of the dark side, do you think that perhaps they are not true? Maybe Anakin's getting too close to the Sith Lord in his investigation, and these are false visions meant to distract him."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "He said he's been having them since the night we returned, before he began his investigation. And I don't want to dismiss the visions too quickly- they're similar enough to the true ones about his mother that I don't think we should risk Padmé Amidala's life on the chance that they might be false."

"That's another thing that concerns me," said Mace. "Padmé Amidala. Anakin is  _far_  too attached to her."

Obi-Wan tried not to let his reaction to  _that_ understatementshow on his face. "She has been a good friend to him," he said carefully. "And he has known her for a very long time. Longer than he's known me, if only by a few days." He changed the subject quickly, not wanting the other Master to dwell too much on Anakin and Padmé's relationship. "Actually, the fact that Padmé is the one dying in these visions concerns me for another reason."

"Oh?" Mace raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

"Though Padmé may have counted Palpatine as a mentor once, she's more recently shown her opposition to the war and his continued rise to power," said Obi-Wan. "You and I discussed whether Palpatine's recent actions giving himself power far beyond what the Constitution says he ought to have are grounds for interference by the Jedi. But if I had to bet on one person to take a stand and oppose his power-grab politically? It would be Padmé Amidala. She is a very principled woman, and I don't think she'll take his maneuverings with the acceptance of the rest of her peers."

"I see," said Mace. "And since the Sith Lord is almost certainly someone in Palpatine's administration, you think that her death might be a way to clear the path to absolute power in the office of the Chancellor? Anakin saw her dying in  _childbirth,_  Obi-Wan, not at the end of a blaster or lightsaber. How could a Sith possibly arrange that?"

"I don't know," Obi-Wan admitted. "I just have a feeling that there's more to Anakin's visions than meets the eye." He shrugged. "It could be that Padmé's death, even by natural causes, will benefit the Sith Lord - perhaps that's what the dreams are trying to warn Anakin about. It would explain why I sensed the dark side, if a Sith victory is the possible result of the visions coming true."

"That would still leave us with the problem of trying to stop a death which there may be no way to stop," Mace pointed out. "There shouldn't be any reason for her to die in childbirth if she has access to Coruscant's medical centers, and if she does anyway, I don't see how any Jedi could stop it. And-" he cut himself off abruptly.

"What?" asked Obi-Wan curiously. He rarely saw the normally self-assured Jedi Master looking this uncomfortable.

"Look, Obi-Wan," Mace said hesitantly. "I know you trust Anakin. I know he's been a good friend to you, if not always a respectful apprentice. But he has been acting off lately, and I think you should consider the idea that he might not be entirely trustworthy. Are you  _absolutely sure_  that the darkness you sensed wasn't coming directly from him?"

Obi-Wan glared at him. "Yes, I'm absolutely sure," he said icily. "Anakin might not be particularly obedient, but that doesn't make him  _dark_."

Mace appeared unmoved by his vehemence. "And the fact that he seemed drawn to the shelf hiding the Sith holocron vault? That doesn't suggest anything to you?"

"No, it doesn't," said Obi-Wan, crossing his arms defensively. "Anakin has a very strong connection with the Force, it shouldn't be surprising that he sensed something off about that shelf and decided to investigate. Anyway, it's not as though he came anywhere near to opening it - he didn't find the lock, or even look too closely at the shelves for it."

"Very well," Mace said. "I suppose I'll meditate on this, then, and let you know if I come to any conclusions about what to do with him or the Senator in the morning."

Obi-Wan relaxed. "I should do the same," he said. And with one last look back at Anakin, he swept out of the room.

* * *

Anakin had been dozing, slipping in and out of consciousness, trying to fight the drugs in his system in order to avoid dreaming again, when he'd vaguely noticed Obi-Wan and Windu entering the room. He hadn't been aware enough to sit up and correct Master Che's statement that he was asleep.

But he'd quickly snapped into awareness when he'd realized the two Jedi Masters were talking about him. And though he was glad to hear them taking the threat to Padmé seriously, annoyed that they still seemed to be finding fault with the Chancellor's methods, and warmed to hear Obi-Wan taking his side against the Council member who seemed to distrust him most...right now he could only fixate on one thing.

The Jedi Council was hiding a room full of Sith holocrons. No  _wonder_ his searches for Plagueis and Sith healing hadn't come up with anything, he'd been looking in completely the wrong place! Even when they didn't know what they were doing, it seemed the Jedi were holding him back from finding what he needed. What  _Padmé_ needed. He couldn't believe he'd been so  _close_  to finding the answers he needed, without ever realizing they were there.

But he'd blown his chance - it would surely be impossible to break back into the Vault a second time, someone would be watching him from the moment he stepped into the archives. And it didn't sound like Obi-Wan or the rest of the Council would give him permission to go into the Sith vault - they seemed to want him as far away from it as possible. Perhaps they knew the power he could achieve, and feared it.

He could feel the pull of unconsciousness, the sedative taking hold once more. But before he drifted back into sleep, he vowed with every ounce of determination he had that he _would_  find a way back in, he  _would_  find a way to stop Padmé's death.

No matter how much it cost him.

* * *

Anakin woke several times throughout the night, tormented by images of Padmé's death. Still, he managed to fall back asleep after each one, and by the time he awakened to sunlight streaming in through a nearby window, his head did feel much clearer than it had the day before. Much as he hated to admit that Obi-Wan had been right, the sleep  _had_  done him good. He was still tired - it probably would have taken him hours more to catch up on all the sleep he'd missed over the past week - but at least he didn't feel like a turbohammer was pounding against the inside of his skull anymore. He was just about to get up and find Vokara Che so he could badger her to release him, or possible just sneak out, when the door opened and - speak of the devil - Obi-Wan walked in.

"Good morning, Anakin," he said. "You look better."

"Morning, Master," he replied, not quite able to hold back a yawn. "So, did you figure anything out after I fell back asleep?" He'd decided not to let Obi-Wan know that he'd overheard any of last night's conversation; he didn't want the older man getting suspicious that he knew about the secret holocrons.

"I think it's likely that the Council will decide to offer Padmé some form of protection," Obi-Wan said. "I cannot guarantee any more than that. And they haven't discussed what's to happen to you yet either. But...Anakin, that wasn't what I came here for." He glanced around as though to see if anybody was listening, then closed the door to the room. Anakin swallowed; he had a bad feeling about this. Obi-Wan turned back to him, and said, "We need to talk."

Anakin gulped. So he hadn't gotten away with his eavesdropping after all. "Obi-Wan," he began, but he was cut off before he could continue.

"We need to talk about the fact that you didn't tell me what was going on with your visions, and your plan to break into the Archives," Obi-Wan said.

Anakin relaxed slightly. "I really am sorry about that," he said. "I just wasn't thinking straight, I guess."

"Hmm." Obi-Wan stroked his beard. "Is there anything  _else_  you'd like to tell me? I'd like to hear it now, preferably, before I have to find out in a less pleasant manner."

"Well..." Anakin trailed off. He did sort of want Obi-Wan to know about his and Padmé's relationship - he'd always hated keeping it a secret. They couldn't keep hiding it forever, and it wasn't like Anakin was possibly going to avoid being expelled if he really did manage to break into the Sith vault. And he wasn't sure he could bear to see Obi-Wan's face, if he realized that Anakin had kept lying to him. "Um, remember back in the vault when Master WIndu asked me why I hadn't told anyone about Padmé being pregnant? And you thought it was because I was worried about her getting in trouble if anyone found it? That - that's not the whole story; it wasn't just  _her_ I was protecting." He took a deep breath. "Obi-Wan, there's something you should know. I- that is, Padmé and I- see, the thing is- okay, look- I, uh, I-"

"You're the father," Obi-Wan said quietly. "I know, Anakin. I knew as soon as you said she was pregnant."

Anakin stared at him, shocked. "You knew? You...you  _knew?_ " His surprise was replaced with confusion. "Why didn't you say anything?" he demanded.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him. "Would you have wanted me to say something in front of Master Windu and the others? I didn't think you were actually  _trying_  to get yourself expelled."

"But...but," Anakin stuttered, "If you were willing to keep it from the Council, I, I could have told you  _before,_ I could have told you when I first had the dreams." He was starting to feel hysterical, not sure whether to laugh or cry or scream in frustration. "I was trying so hard not to let you find out, I thought you'd hate me if you knew. Padmé even told me to tell you, you could have been helping me find a way to save her all this time, you could have looked in the Archives, but I thought I had to keep it secret, and  _it's all for nothing because you weren't going to tell the Council anyway!_ " So much time wasted that Obi-Wan could have been helping him. So much time that he could have had someone to talk to about this, someone to give him emotional support, and it was his own kriffing fault that he'd automatically assumed the worst about Obi-Wan.

Another thought hit him, with the force of a blaster shot. "Are you telling me that I could have told you  _from the very beginning_? I...I spent so much time and energy trying to keep it from you, I  _hated_  that I couldn't talk to you about it, and I could have told you three years ago?" He realized that his voice was several octaves higher than usual, and tried to bring it back to normal. "How long have you known about us?"

"Three years? Have you really been together that long?" Obi-Wan looked perturbed. "I knew about your feelings for her from the beginning, of course. You weren't exactly trying to be subtle when you talked about her when we first were assigned to protect her. Noticing that she returned your feelings took a little longer - she actually has the ability to hide her emotions, very Jedi-like, I might add. I never found proof that the two of you had decided to actually begin a relationship - in face, I tried very hard not to. But over time I grew more and more certain about what you were hiding. You both act a certain way around each other, it was difficult to miss."

"Oh," said Anakin. "I thought we were subtle about it."

Obi-Wan actually cracked a smile at that. "Not particularly," he said. His face turned serious. "Anakin, though I may have been able to cover you in the past, I...I suspect that your relationship may be more serious than I had guessed. Were you  _planning_  on having a child?"

"Force no," Anakin said immediately. "I mean, I'm happy now that it's happened of course, but we both knew that having a baby would make our relationship more difficult to hide. We never even really talked about the possibility."

"I see," said Obi-Wan, looking relieved. "Well, congratulations." He then muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?" Anakin asked.

"Nothing," Obi-Wan replied quickly. He blushed slightly. "Just...why weren't you more  _careful_?"

Oh. Anakin could feel his face heating up; this was not a conversation he ever wanted to have with Obi-Wan ever. "We  _were_  careful," he protested.

"Clearly not careful enough," Obi-Wan murmured, smirking.

"Hey," said Anakin defensively. "Don't forget that you're talking to living proof that  _abstinence_  isn't one-hundred percent effective, if it's the will of the Force that someone get pregnant. So cut me some slack!"

"Oh, all right," Obi-Wan said. "But, Anakin - on a more serious note - you have to think about the future. I can't cover for you forever, and you have your vow to the Order to consider. You may have been able to be with Padmé without it interfering too much in your duty before, but adding a child in the mix will make things much more complicated."

"No," Anakin said quietly. "It won't. Obi-Wan, I know I have a vow to the Order. But I took a vow to Padmé too, and I mean to keep it. Having a child...that makes the choice even simpler." He glanced down, unable to keep looking at Obi-Wan's face. "If the Council would allow me to be a Jedi and have a family at the same time, I'd jump at the chance. But they won't, and Padmé has never tried to force me to choose. I know where my loyalties lie"

"Oh," Obi-Wan said faintly. "I-I see. You plan to leave the Order, then." His face was blank - whatever emotion he was feeling, he clearly didn't want Anakin to see it.

Anakin could feel his insides writhing with guilt. "Master, I'm sorry. It's not- it's not about you, or your teachings. You were the best master I could ever have hoped to have. I just can't leave Padmé. I love her, more than anything in the galaxy. And even though being a Jedi is all I've ever wanted to do, she just matters more to me."

"Wait a moment," said Obi-Wan suddenly, seeming to ignore what Anakin had just said. "You said you took a vow to her. Are you saying that you're  _married_?"

"Well, yeah," Anakin said. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it does," Obi-Wan said sharply. "You took an oath to the Jedi Order when you were Knighted. To have a relationship anyways, well, that's one thing. But a marriage is a commitment! A formal pledge contrary to the vow you had already taken."

"Of course marriage is a commitment," Anakin snapped back, annoyed. "That's kinda the whole point, Master. Besides, I took my vows to Padmé  _before_  I was Knighted.

Obi-Wan looked stunned. "You did it when you were still my padawan? And I didn't notice? How long have you been married?"

"Since Geonosis, basically," Anakin replied. "We had a cleric on Naboo do the ceremony when I escorted her back there after my hand was replaced."

On the upside, Obi-Wan no longer looked angry. On the downside, he appeared to be about to have some sort of aneurysm. "After Geonosis? You'd known her a week! Isn't that a little bit  _fast_ , even by your standards?"

Anakin felt confused. "Fast? I don't know what you're talking about. I'd been in love with her for ten years." He and Obi-Wan stared blankly at each other for a few moments.

When it became clear that neither was going to understand the other, Obi-Wan looked away. "All right, then," he said. "So you're married, and you're planning to leave the Order for Padmé once the baby is born."

"At the moment, I'm just planning on making sure the baby  _is_  born, and Padmé's there for me to leave for," Anakin said. "I haven't actually thought it out much further than that."

"Of course," said Obi-Wan. "I almost forgot. If you can think of any way for me to help you help her, please let me know. I can't guarantee you anything, but I will assist you if I can. Did you have any other ideas, other than the one you tried last night?"

Anakin tried to keep his face as innocent as possible. After hearing Obi-Wan's conversation with Windu, he had managed to come up with plans B and C. "Actually, I was going to ask you about that. See, I realized that everyone was right. Looking for super-secret Jedi healing techniques was kind of a dumb idea."

"No arguments there," Obi-Wan interjected.

"But maybe I wasn't totally off base with trying some research," Anakin continued. "I think I want to look into visions in general. You know, read up on Jedi who've had premonitions in the past and see if there's anything any of them were able to do to stop them coming true. I want to figure out what worked and what didn't, and see if I can apply any of it."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "That's...actually not a bad idea, Anakin. Good thinking."

Anakin ducked his head, warmth flooding through him at the rare praise. "Don't sound so surprised," he said. "I have good ideas all the time." He grinned. "Occasionally, they even work."

Obi-Wan snorted. "Well, I have a Council meeting later this morning. I'm, er, not sure if you're supposed to come - we haven't discussed if you'll be removed from the Council as part of your punishment, or if you'll stay on so you can complete your mission. But I suppose it doesn't matter until you're cleared to leave here. Anyway, once the meeting's over, perhaps I'll have time to go into the Archives with you to research visions."

"Great," Anakin said. "And, um, if we can't find anything helpful in the main part of the Archives, is there any chance at all-"

"That I could take you back into the Holocron Vault?" Obi-Wan asked. "Unlikely, after what you pulled yesterday."

Anakin's heart sank. So it was down to Plan C, actually doing research with Obi-Wan on visions and hoping they found something. Stang, he'd really been hoping to get a look at the Sith holocrons.

"Still," Obi-Wan continued. "there's no harm in asking the rest of the Council. I'll pass your request on to them later, if you aren't summoned yourself."

"Thanks," Anakin said. "I appreciate it, Master."

Obi-Wan stood to leave. "Are you getting out of here anytime soon?" he asked.

"I better be, or else I might go stir crazy," Anakin said. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood to follow Obi-Wan. "Actually, I guess I'll find Master Che now, see if she'll spring me."

She did, with the caveat that if he managed to end up back into her care due to lack of rest again, she wouldn't let him leave for at least a week. The threat had the desired effect on Anakin, who shuddered at the prospect.

He had just left the healer's ward and parted ways with Obi-Wan when the call came through on his comlink.  _"Anakin,"_ the image of Chancellor Palpatine said cheerfully.  _"I was hoping I'd be able to reach you, my boy. Come to my office, I have some good news..."_


	6. Insidious

Palpatine looked up from his desk as soon as Anakin entered his office. "Welcome, my boy," he said, smiling kindly.

"Good morning, Chancellor," Anakin replied. He couldn't help but smile back at the genuine warmth in the other man's voice; despite the turmoil his life had been thrown into over the past twelve hours, Palpatine had always had a way of putting him at ease. "You said there was good news?"

"Indeed," said Palpatine. He waved a hand at the seat across from him, indicating for Anakin to sit down. "Though, before I explain further…is there something troubling you, Anakin?"

Anakin nodded as he took his seat. He wasn't particularly surprised that the Chancellor had realized something was going on; for someone without the Force, the older man had always had a gift for understanding Anakin's emotions. "I'm in some trouble with the Council," he admitted. "I went somewhere that only Masters are supposed to go, and they're pretty angry."

Palpatine sighed. "I wish I could be shocked that they continue to hold you back from the privileges which they themselves enjoy," he said. "Yet I find that nothing they do can surprise me after they denied you the rank you clearly deserve, especially after your victory over Dooku. Or perhaps it was that same victory which caused them to fear your power…"

Anakin shifted in his chair. What Palpatine said made sense—a  _lot_  of sense—but he didn't really feel comfortable denouncing the Council aloud. "They weren't that bad," he said. "People have been expelled in the past for what I did, but Master Windu agreed not to do that. And Obi-Wan said he'd help me go back, if the rest of the Council agrees."

Palpatine raised an eyebrow. "Did you not find what you were looking for the first time?"

"No," Anakin said, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into his voice. "And I don't know if I'm going to, if I can only look with Obi-Wan's supervision."

"How unfortunate," Palpatine said, shaking his head. "You'd think that Master Kenobi would be more supportive of your search, as I can tell it's something important to you. What precisely are you looking for?"

Anakin hesitated, but only for a moment. After all, Palpatine had always been good at keeping his secrets, and after last night's conversation, he doubted that the Chancellor would disapprove of him researching the Sith. "I was looking at the secret holocrons in the Temple Archives," he said eventually. "They contain some of the most powerful secrets that Jedi in the past have discovered, and I was hoping to find some information there. And I didn't, but I overheard Obi-Wan saying that there are also Sith holocrons hidden there, and I think that maybe those would be more useful."

Palpatine sat up straight. "Sith holocrons?" he asked quickly. "The Jedi have their hands on  _Sith_  holocrons?" For just a moment, Anakin could have sworn he felt something in the Force—a surge of anger, but also of glee—but it passed before he could even be sure that it had really happened.

"Apparently," Anakin said, confused at the older man's reaction.

"I see," said Palpatine. "And you want to access them? Yesterday you seemed quite convinced that the Sith were evil." As Anakin had predicted, he didn't look shocked or disapproving. In fact, he wore an expression that was more like pride.

"The Sith  _are_  evil," Anakin said. "I just think I could learn a couple things from them, that's all." Placing his hands on the table, he leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Remember the legend you told me last night? The one about Darth Plagueis? I realized that you're right, that I can't learn that sort of power from the Jedi, and it's not like I know any Sith that I can just go up to and ask for help. So I figured that the Sith holocrons are my best chance. Oh, and I was wondering if you had any more information about Plagueis that I could use to help my search."

"I see," Palpatine repeated, his voice sounding oddly strangled. "Well, Anakin, though I do have something of an interest in Sith lore—know thy enemy, and all that—I can't say I know anything more about the legend than what I already told you. But I think your idea to learn from the holocrons is  _most_  interesting; in fact, I rather wish I could view them myself. It seems like such a waste for all that power and knowledge to sit hidden and unused… I'm glad you're willing to move beyond the narrow, fearful viewpoint of the Jedi."

Anakin smiled a little bit. It was nice that there was  _one_  person who trusted him enough to not be afraid of the idea of him accessing that sort of power. But the reality of the situation soon settled back in, and he sighed. "Willing, sir, but not able," he said. "Master Windu will never consent to letting me back in the Holocron Vault. And even if he did, Obi-Wan would be babysitting me the whole time, so it's not like I'd have the chance to even  _look_  at the Sith holocrons, let alone use them."

Palpatine looked thoughtful. "We'll see about  _that_ ," he said. "As I said before, I think that allowing you to learn from the Sith is a very good idea, and as you may have noticed, I have something of a talent for making my ideas into reality. Now, here is what I propose…"

* * *

Once Anakin had commed with the good news, there was no question of whether he'd be allowed to that day's Council meeting. Obi-Wan was grateful; he didn't want any more conflict between his former Padawan and the senior Jedi.

"Clone Intelligence has located Grievous in the Utapau system," Anakin explained as soon as everyone else was seated. 'Everyone else,' of course, being a relative term—aside from Anakin and Obi-Wan himself, only Mace, and Agen Kolar were actually present, and just three other Masters were attending by hologram.

Anakin turned on the holoprojector that the Chancellor had given him, and a three-dimensional image of Utapau appeared. "The planet itself is neutral, with no particular strategic significance, but these sinkholes could be hiding large numbers of droids."

" _A dangerous mission, this will be,"_ the image of Yoda commented.  _"And risk failure, we cannot."_

"Agreed," said Mace. "We should send a Master, though I don't think we can spare more than one, spread as thin as we are." He glanced at Obi-Wan, who wasn't surprised. After all, he'd faced Grievous before, and knew how he fought. And the remaining Council members would be enough to face Sidious, should the Sith Lord finally decide to make his move.

"The Chancellor," said Anakin, "is asking that Master Kenobi be sent to face Grievous."

Obi-Wan started in surprise—Palpatine had never shown much favor to him in the past, and he couldn't think of a reason that the man would request him now. Which meant that there must be a reason that wasn't obvious. He stared at Anakin, who didn't meet his eyes.

"This is a matter to be decided by the  _Council,_  not the Chancellor," Mace snapped—evidently, he was thinking along the same lines as Obi-Wan. Whatever game Palpatine was playing, it was unlikely that it would be good for the Jedi to go along with it. He shared a troubled glance with Obi-Wan, who could only shrug in confusion.

"But Chancellor Palpatine said—" Anakin began, his tone furious. Though Obi-Wan couldn't help but notice that he couldn't  _sense_  any actual anger from his young friend, which was odd, as Anakin was terrible at shielding…

"I think," Mace interrupted, "that Obi-Wan is more needed here, on Coruscant, where he can keep an eye on… _events._ "

The eyes of all the other Masters turned to Anakin; after the occurrences of the previous night, it was no secret what—or rather whom—Mace wanted Obi-Wan to keep an eye on. In that sense, Obi-Wan supposed, the decision was reasonable: Anakin hadn't been acting very stable, and as his mission to spy on the Chancellor was an incredibly important one, it was no surprise that Mace thought Obi-Wan should give him some guidance. But he also knew that Anakin hated having his abilities questioned; he'd be terribly upset at the implication that he couldn't finish the mission alone…

…Except that Anakin didn't  _look_  angry. In fact, Obi-Wan imagined he could detect a hint of satisfaction in his voice as he said, "Fine. Obi-Wan can stay here. But I think we all agree with Master Yoda when he says we can't risk failure on this mission. Killing Grievous will end the war, and we don't want to send someone who might not win against him."

"Very well," said Mace. "In that case, I suppose  _I_  must go to Utapau."

Yoda frowned. " _Sure that having both of us away from the Temple with the Sith so close at hand is a good idea, I am not."_

"And yet we cannot risk Grievous escaping once more," Mace said grimly. "Besides, Obi-Wan and Anakin have each individually defeated a Sith Lord. Together, and with the help of Master Kolar and a few of the other Masters not on the Council, I think they'll be all right facing this one. Though I'll try to get my trip to Utapau over as soon as possible."

" _I concur with Mace's assessment,"_  the image of Ki-Adi-Mundi said. " _He should go. Let's put it to a vote."_

They did, and though Obi-Wan nodded along with the rest of them—even Anakin—he had a sinking feeling that somehow, they were missing something very important.

He shook off the bad feeling, and rose to help Mace make preparations for the attack.

* * *

Even as Anakin stood on the landing platform next to Obi-Wan, watching Master Windu direct his battalions of clone troopers aboard the assault cruisers, he couldn't quite believe that the Chancellor's plan had actually  _worked._  Palpatine had been right—as usual—about the Council. They were so intent on avoiding the Chancellor's influence that their distrust of him had moved past sending Anakin to spy to actively interfering with his plans.

Anakin would be angry at the Council for letting their feud interfere with the war effort, if their actions hadn't played perfectly into his own hands. Just as the Chancellor had said they would.

Really, Anakin sometimes thought that the war might be over by know if the Jedi and the Senate would just give Palpatine enough power. The man was a brilliant strategist. Still, it was kind of amazing how easily the Council's prejudices had been turned against them –no. Not  _against_ them, Anakin and Palpatine weren't working  _against_  the Jedi, of course, just…in a different direction, that was all. There was nothing wrong with that.

Windu jogged over to where the two of them were standing.

"Is everything prepared for you to leave?" Obi-Wan asked him.

The Korun Master nodded. "I have enough manpower and equipment to take the Utapau system three times over. Grievous isn't going to know what hit him."

"The difficulty isn't going to be in overpowering him," advised Obi-Wan. "In my experiences with the General, the more important trick is to be able to catch him once he tries to run." Obi-Wan had encountered Grievous several times and in Anakin's opinion, was far more prepared to defeat him than Windu. That the Council had chosen to send the latter was only a sign of their foolishness.

"I'll keep that in mind," said Windu. "But I don't think the coward is going to be able to run too far this time. We'll catch him, and Force-willing, the Chancellor will finally agree to end this war." Anakin bristled at the implication that Palpatine wasn't already doing everything he could, but didn't say anything—there was no point in arguing with the man when he was just about to remove himself halfway across the galaxy.

"Let us all hope so," Obi-Wan replied. "The galaxy and the Jedi have seen enough death and destruction in the past three years to last a lifetime, I think."

Windu nodded grimly. "Agreed," he said. "But we all have our parts to play if we are to ever see peace. Look after the Order while I'm gone, Obi-Wan. If the Sith Lord does decide to move into the open while Yoda and I are off planet, I'm trusting you to stop him." Though Obi-Wan was neither the oldest nor most experienced Council member left on Coruscant, his skills and level-headed wisdom were respected enough that he had been put in charge of the Temple in the absence of the two most senior Council members. A move, Anakin noted, which  _also_  was precisely as the Chancellor had predicted it. Everything was going to plan, and he could already picture himself returning triumphantly to the woman he loved with every fiber of his being, carrying the news that he'd discovered how to save her…

Anakin pulled himself back to reality as Master Windu turned to face him. "And as for  _you_ ," he said severely, "let's not have any more distractions, or rule-breaking. Duty to the Order comes first, especially in times like these. Understood?" Anakin nodded, and despite the look of annoyance that he was sure was showing on his face, the older Master's expression softened. "Anakin, your mission to watch the Chancellor is of the utmost importance. Despite your recent exploits, the Council is trusting you— _I_ am trusting you—to succeed in it. And on your success rests the fate of the Republic, that much I sense. You have strength in the Force unmatched by any Jedi, living or dead. Use it correctly, don't allow your emotions to cloud your judgment, look to Obi-Wan for guidance if you must…and the Republic may just have a chance."

Anakin swallowed hard. "Yes, Master Windu," he said. "I will do what I must."

"As will we all," Windu replied. "May the Force be with you. With both of you." He bowed slightly.

Anakin and Obi-Wan bowed back. "May the Force be with you," they intoned in unison, and watched silently as the second-highest ranked Master in the Jedi Order turned and walked away, leaving them standing on the landing platform. Anakin had a sudden sense—Obi-Wan would have called it a feeling from the Force, and Padme would have called it him being dramatic—that they were being left to face their fates, destinies which would be decided once and for all somewhere near, sometime soon…

The feeling went as abruptly as it had come and Anakin was once again in the plane of purely physical perception: the sound of battle cruisers lifting off filling his ears, the sun in his eyes, and the sensation of the cool wind tousling his hair and robes.

"I feel it, too," Obi-Wan said from beside him. "Something's coming. A turning point, perhaps."

"Great," said Anakin. "You haven't sensed anything specific enough to be useful about what this turning point might be, or how to make it turn in our favor, have you? Because I'm coming up with nothing."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "The Force is a guide for us, not a map. We must find our own way through whatever is to come. Though, and I'm not sure if this is a feeling from the Force or simply a reflection of the way our lives seem to be going, I'd bet money that we're heading into some sort of trap."

"Awesome!" Anakin said brightly, injecting every note of cheer he could muster into his voice. "Then all we need to do is find the trap and spring it. Should be simple, Master."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Thank you for that assessment," he said. His tone was dry, but Anakin could sense his amusement. He decided that now was a good time to start the next part of his plan.

"So…" he said casually. "Since Palpatine doesn't need me right now, and your duties pretty much consist of watching me and making sure nobody accidentally burns down the Temple while Masters Yoda and Windu are gone, should we get started looking up visions in the Archives?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "I suppose now is as good a time as any," he said.

* * *

More than an hour later, they were sitting in front of a large pile of datapads. The main part of the Archives had records of Jedi visions dating back thousands of years: from prophecies like that of the Chosen One, to the short-term premonitions Force-sensitives had every day, to visions like the ones Anakin had been having. Some of them were interesting, but many were either simple explanations of prophetic visions aimed at curious Padawans, or else just chronicles of visions which had come true. So far they had come across a list of prophecies made by ancient Jedi, a description of a Jedi who had foreseen a devastating agricultural plague and warned planetary leaders about it—only for scientists to create the very devastation he had been trying to avoid in their attempts to immunize the planet's crops, and other similar stories.

In short, the research was going nowhere, which meant it was time for Anakin to introduce the next phase of Palpatine's plan. "Obi-Wan, this isn't working," he said. "It would take forever to look through all these, even if we didn't also have other duties to be attending to. We can't just hope we'll come across something useful in time."

Obi-Wan sighed and sat back. "It does seem unlikely," he admitted. "I don't suppose you have any other ideas?"

"Well," Anakin said slowly. "Like I said earlier, there might not be anything too interesting in the  _main_  part of the Archives, but if we went into the Holocron Vault—"

"And I," Obi-Wan interrupted, "told you that there is no chance at all that the Council—" He stopped short as the realization hit him.

"The Council," Anakin said quietly, "of which  _you_  happen to currently be the highest-ranking member on the planet. The decision is yours, Master."

For a moment, Obi-Wan just looked stunned, as if he hadn't quite processed before that moment the responsibilities which had been left to him. Then he turned and looked at Anakin with an odd expression, half-way between curiosity and suspicion. The look passed after only a moment, and Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "Well. That may be true, but I think I ought to consult with Master Kolar before deciding anything."

"All right," Anakin said indifferently. That wasn't any concern; he had no doubts that Obi-Wan could persuade the other Master. "I'll put all these datapads away while you go find him." And he did so, re-shelving them carefully while Obi-Wan left briskly in search of his fellow Council member.

He paused in the middle of his work to have a brief conversation over his comlink, then continued with a satisfied smile on his face. By the time Obi-Wan returned fifteen minutes later with the go-ahead, Anakin was waiting with high spirits and a purposefully innocent expression on his face.

And together, they stepped into the Vault.


	7. Temptation

Something about the situation was making Obi-Wan nervous. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it - after all, he wasn’t doing anything _wrong_ by returning with Anakin to the Vault; as the senior Council member on Coruscant, he was well within his rights to bring the younger man into even this restricted area. Anakin had finally opened up about the secrets he’d been keeping, and now they were working to save Padme’s life. He should be relaxing, glad to be doing something productive. And yet…

And yet there was something about the situation that just wasn’t adding up. Perhaps it was the oddity of Palpatine’s request that he lead the mission to Utapau. Perhaps it was the still unexplained darkness he’d sensed surrounding Anakin’s visions. Perhaps it was that Anakin didn’t seem too bothered by the fact that there search wasn’t yielding much in the way of results - though there were many holocrons on the subject of visions, the ones discussing prevention of a specific outcome were mostly based on speculation - when the night before, his failure to find usable information had driven him to tears. Yes, Anakin’s apparent sudden acquisition of a new supply of patience, in the face of the possible death of his wife and soon-to-be mother of his child, was _definitely_ peculiar.

Not to mention the fact that Anakin even _had_ a wife, let alone a pregnant one. It was entirely possible that his current unease was due to that particular revelation.

And just when he thought the situation couldn’t get any more bizarre, his comlink beeped and indicated that he was being called by the Supreme Chancellor. He went to answer it, then hesitated. After all, _Anakin_ was supposed to be the Chancellor’s connection on the Council. So why hadn’t he been commed first?

“I’m going to take this outside,” he said to Anakin, who was replacing a holocron back onto its shelf. If it turned out to be something that Anakin was supposed to know about, Obi-Wan could always inform him later.

“Okay,” Anakin said. And that was it. No curious questions about who the caller was, or why Obi-Wan didn’t want to take the call in front of him. Maybe he was just too distracted by his fears for Padme. _Maybe._

Obi-Wan’s unease continued to mount as he stepped out of the Vault and into a private study room nearby. He tried to keep his disquiet off his face as he answered his comlink and found himself face-to-holographic-face with Palpatine. “Chancellor,” he said. “Is there something I can help you with?”

 _“As a matter of fact, this is a personal call,”_ the Chancellor replied, with a small smile that only succeeded in setting Obi-Wan further on edge. _“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about a mutual friend of ours.”_ Obi-Wan’s stomach sank. _“It’s young Anakin,”_ Palpatine continued. _“He’s been under a great deal of stress lately, and I find myself worrying about him.”_

If so, he certainly wasn’t the only one. But exactly how much did the man know about what was going on with Anakin? “I think every Jedi will continue to face stress until this war is ended,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “However, I have complete faith in Anakin to fulfill his duties.”

 _“Believe me, Master Kenobi, the last thing I was trying to do was insinuate that Anakin is incapable of doing - well,_ anything,” Palpatine said. _“In fact, I was referring to a more_ personal _sort of tension.”_

“Ah,” said Obi-Wan. Had Anakin told Palpatine about his marriage? His visions? He hadn’t mentioned doing so, and it didn’t seem likely that Anakin would confide in Palpatine before telling anybody else, but what else could the man be referring to?

 _“I understand that Anakin may feel that my appointment of him to the Jedi Council has created a conflict of interest between his duty to the Republic and to the Jedi,”_ Palpatine continued, and Obi-Wan relaxed slightly. _“Of course, I dislike having to put him in an awkward situation, but the benefits of having a direct link between my office and the Jedi Council could be critical in ending this war.”_

“I certainly hope that that there is no conflict of interest between the Chancellor’s office and the Jedi,” Obi-Wan said stiffly. “We are on the same side, are we not?”

 _“Of course, Master Kenobi, of course,”_ Palpatine assured him. _“You’re quite right. Yet I still have observed Anakin acting...uneasy, of late. He appears to be conflicted, and -between the two of us- it’s hardly worth pretending that there has never been...tension...between him and the Council.”_

Obi-Wan frowned. “Anakin will do his duty,” he said shortly. “And, with all due respect, Chancellor, relations between him and the other members of the Council are Jedi business - not yours.” But he couldn’t help feeling a stirring of unease, having himself protested against asking Anakin to spy on the Chancellor. And Anakin’s angry response had only proved that Palpatine was right about his divided loyalties…

 _“Yes, yes, of course,”_ said Palpatine. _“Far be it from me to interfere with the workings of the Jedi. I simply hope that Anakin doesn’t take my assignment of him as anything other than a necessity to speed the ending of the war. I would hate for him to think I was asking him to do anything against his conscience.”_

“I’m sure he doesn’t think that about you,” Obi-Wan replied, and it was true. It was the _Council’s_ request for surveillance that Anakin had seen as unethical, perhaps because they - Obi-Wan - had asked Anakin to report secretly, whereas Palpatine had been open about his intention to gather information. His friend’s hurt words from earlier rang in his ears: _You’re asking me to do something against the Jedi Code. Against the Republic. Against a mentor, and a friend._ No, Palpatine didn’t have to worry about having lost Anakin’s trust. In fact, Anakin’s appointment had done more to increase his distrust against the Council than anything else.

Not that Palpatine could have known that.

* * *

 

The moment the Vault door closed behind Obi-Wan, Anakin sprang into action. Obi-Wan had said there was some sort of lock on the shelves that hid the Sith holocrons, earlier in the infirmary when he’d thought Anakin asleep. He closely examined the shelves that had grabbed his attention the night before - studying them with his eyes, running his hands over them, and feeling them with the Force.

Now that he knew what he was looking for, it didn’t take long for one area in particular to catch his attention. Though looking identical to everything around it, the shelf nonetheless gave off a distinct aura of coldness, of energy almost like static electricity. Removing the holocrons placed on it revealed nothing, a stretch of plain metal which seemed to mock him with its emptiness. Anakin ground his teeth in frustration - he wasn’t sure how long the Chancellor would be able to distract Obi-Wan for, and he could feel the time pressure bearing down on him like a weight.

He dragged his fingers along the crevice between the bottom and sides of the shelf, then along the top. Near the end of the shelf, his finger was caught, though not by any physical obstruction. There was something there, in the Force, and if he reached out with his mind and _twisted_ it, just so…

The whole section of wall in front of him swung away, revealing the entrance to a small, dark room. The darkness was not merely the kind that results from absence of light, but the sort of pure entrancing blackness that one could imagine seeing in a bottomless pit or a black hole.

And Anakin Skywalker thought, _finally._

He stepped forward without making the conscious decision to do so, pulled across the entrance by a tug that felt physical, as though something inside of the room had put hooks into his heart and stomach and was yanking him toward it. Once inside, he could feel the darkness pressing in on him, pushing him forward and whispering in his ear words like _power_ and _destiny_ and _right._

And it felt good, like a piece of himself that he had never known he was missing had been slotted into place inside his heart. He looked around, feeling oddly numb, taking in the shelves of holocrons in the dim lighting from the entryway. They were different than the ones in the room he had just left, pyramids instead of cubes, and were scattered sparsely, haphazardly on the wooden shelves.

He crossed the room in a daze. There was no need to think about where he was going; here, there was only the Force. Guided by an unseen hand, he knelt down in front of one of the old wooden shelves and reached out for one of the holocrons. An old memory of something Obi-Wan had said to him once, about some Sith holocrons being able to possess the people who touch them, was enough to break through the dreamlike feeling and make him hesitate.

But only for a moment. He couldn’t let fear get in his way, not now when he could feel that he was on the precipice of _something,_ some powerful inevitability. He lowered his flesh hand, reaching out instead with the gloved, mechanical one. A current of energy rippled through him the moment he touched the holocron, and for a moment he just knelt there, gripping it, letting the feeling of power flow through him. He moved on the the next shelf, and then to the next, picking up holocrons at random and replacing them back on the shelf.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, but each one he touched deepened his connection to the Force and brought him into an almost dreamlike state. Every holocron felt slightly different than the one before, and all of them hummed with an invisible energy that went bone-deep. It was the same sense of static electricity he’d felt before, building up on Anakin’s skin and and reverberating through every nerve in his body.

This is Anakin Skywalker, on the edge.

He falls to his knees in the middle of the room. Opens himself up to the Force. Is rewarded with a sensation that is both icy and scalding, impossibly cold and impossibly hot. It surrounds him, engulfs him in its embrace, promises him power and freedom and choice and passion and _Padme._

He wants to accept it. How can he not?

“ _Anakin!_ Anakin, what are you doing?!” The cry from behind him is followed mere seconds later by a hand grabbing his arm, and he is yanked bodily back into a standing position. For a moment he is caught in the clutches of two opposing forces pulling him in different directions, the infinite darkness which refuses to let him go and the man burning with light  who is calling his name and dragging him toward the door, and he feels as though he is going to split in two. He struggles, twists, and screams, though he does not know which one he is trying to get away from.

 _“Anakin, snap out of it. Listen to me, please. Anakin!”_ says one.

 _All things die, Anakin Skywalker,_ says the other. _Even stars burn out._

He spends an eternity trying fight them, to escape from the conflicted chaos which both surrounds him and fills his heart and mind and soul. They fight back, battling with him and with each other in a tug-of-war game that threatens to rip him entirely in half.

“ _Come on, Anakin, come on, Padawan.”_

_...even stars burn out…_

He is caught in a whirling vortex of hot and cold, light and dark, right and wrong. But he does not know which is which anymore, or how to tell the difference between the two, or if there truly is a difference, in the end. He is tired, so tired, and he wants to disappear into nothingness but neither the man nor the darkness is willing to let him. Millennia pass.

Somewhere in the Force, something gives. He is pulled back into the well-lit room of Jedi holocrons, and the void reluctantly releases him into the grasp of Obi-Wan Kenobi. He snaps out of his insensibility into the reality of his physical body with a jolt. He is shivering, he realizes, and there are tears running down his face.

“Why? Why, Anakin? I _trusted_ you. How could you? You almost - you almost...gods, how _could_ you?” The voice of the man holding him is anguished in a way that he has never heard it, in a way which pierces his heart with sharp barbs of agony.

When he says, “I’m sorry, Master, I’m sorry I’m sorry I _had_ to, I had to find a way to save Padme, she means everything to me. I can’t live without her, I’m sorry, I’d do anything to save her, I’m sorry, I’m _sorry,_ ” his voice is shaky and hoarse, and his dry throat burns as though he has been screaming for hours on end.

For several minutes - or, perhaps, several days - all he can do is shake and cry, though he doesn’t know why. On the inside, he is still numb. He clings to Obi-Wan’s robes and rocks back and forth, but cannot even summon the emotional energy to be surprised that there are tears on the older man’s face as well for the first time in all the years that Anakin has known him. He is still dissociated by the time his weeping and trembling stop, and he listens to Obi-Wan’s furious vow to never let him within fifty feet of the Vault ever again with a feeling of detachment.

He nods and says, “Yes, Master,” to all of Obi-Wan’s harsh warnings and pleas and commands to never do _anything_ like that again. The numbness persists as he trails Obi-Wan out of the Archives and through the Temple.

It lasts, in fact, until he is alone again in his own room and collapses onto his bed. It is barely dinnertime, but he is exhausted. But when he curls up on top of his blankets, the sharp pain of something digging into his side is enough for him to actually _feel._ And when he pulls a small, pyramid-shaped object out of his robes, a holocron that he has no memory of putting into his pocket, the detachment fades entirely and his heart begins to beat too fast in his chest.

Full of fear and full of hope, he tucks it back into his robes.

And then he comms the Chancellor.

                                                            


	8. Perspectives

Nearly two hours later, and Obi-Wan’s heart rate still hadn’t returned back to normal. The unexpected sight of Anakin kneeling in the middle of the Sith Holocron Vault, head bowed and the Force around him swirling in dark currents was one that he suspected would be burned onto his retinas for a long time to come. _Anakin, Anakin, you promised not to let me get blindsided!_

And the memory of trying to pull Anakin out, of how the younger man had fought and screamed liked he was possessed by some sort of demon, of how his best friend hadn’t even seemed to recognize him...no, Obi-Wan wouldn’t be able to forget that. No matter how much he might wish to. So here he was, in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, meditating on what had happened. “Meditating” being somewhat of an optimistic term; so far what he had managed was a closer match to the description of “brooding,” or “reviewing each and every thing he ought to have done differently” or perhaps “praying desperately to the Force for guidance.”

Should he report Anakin to the rest of the Council? To do so would be to end their trust in Anakin irrevocably - even if he wasn’t expelled, he would likely never reach the rank of Master and would almost certainly be kept under permanent close watch for signs of darkness. And Anakin, who had always chafed at being restrained and who had faith only in those who had faith in him, would in return lose what remained of his trust in the Council. He might even choose the leave the Order rather than be smothered under their suspicion.

Right now, Obi-Wan was certain that Anakin needed the structure of the Jedi more than ever.

But if he _didn’t_ report Anakin...For starters, alerting the other Masters to this sort of breach was unquestionably his duty; to not do so would be a failure to live up to the faith Yoda and Mace had given him by placing him in this position. Furthermore, if Anakin _did_ ever become a Master - though he supposed that was looking less and less likely given his relationship with Padme - he wouldn’t be able to explain why Anakin ought to be kept out of the Archive Vault, as far away from the Sith Holocrons as possible. And Obi-Wan had no desire for the scene he had walked in on earlier to be repeated.

In the end, it came down to the question of why Anakin had been in the Sith Vault to begin with. Obi-Wan would have liked to believe that it had been an accident. After all, Anakin had clearly sensed a disturbance around the entrance the night before, and it was _just_ plausible that his curiosity had led him to investigate, that he hadn’t known what he was stumbling into. And once inside the Vault, it might have been difficult for someone as Force-sensitive as Anakin to resist the strength of the dark side currents within. After Zigoola, Obi-Wan knew better than anyone how much an environment steeped in the dark side could affect one’s judgment. Besides, how could Anakin have even known that the Sith holocrons existed? Yes, Obi-Wan would very much have liked to convince himself that the day’s events had been no fault of Anakin’s.

Except...except, in his incoherent apologies after Obi-Wan had pulled him out, Anakin had definitely said something along the lines of _“I had to find a way to save Padme.”_ As though it had been premeditated. As though Anakin had, for whatever inscrutable reason, thought the key to preventing his wife’s life lay in the Sith holocrons, and he’d broken in with no more reservations than when he’d made a similar attempt on the Jedi ones.

But could Obi-Wan really believe that of his best friend? This was _Anakin_ he was thinking about, Anakin who hated the dark side and all its practitioners more than any Jedi ought to hate anything, who had killed a Sith Lord only a week or so ago. Surely it was a betrayal of their partnership for Obi-Wan to even think that his former apprentice might knowingly and willingly seek out the temptations of the dark side.

It seemed unthinkable. Yet was it so unthinkable that Anakin’s love of Padme outweighed his hatred of the dark side? Even moreso than his anger or his arrogance, Anakin’s greatest difficulty as a Jedi had always been his inability to let go of his attachments when his duty called for it.

Not that Obi-Wan was doing a stellar job himself of putting duty before attachment at the moment. The answer to his dilemma should have been straightforward: report rule-breaking and potentially dark activities to the Council. He sighed - he was getting a headache, and his legs were beginning to cramp from sitting in one position for too long. If only he could have asked the subject of his mental scrutiny directly. But Anakin had been insensible when Obi-Wan had dropped him off at his room, barely coherent, his mind scrambled from the experience in the Vault. He had been in no state to answer any questions, and probably wouldn’t be until he’d gotten some rest.

It occurred to Obi-Wan that Anakin might not be the only one with answers. There was someone he’d been meaning to speak to anyways, someone who knew Anakin as well as he did, someone who could shed some light on the visions which had been the catalyst for this nightmare.

Before he made a decision which might decide not only Anakin’s fate but that of galaxy, Obi-Wan was going to need to talk to Padme Amidala.

* * *

 

Anakin was let into the Chancellor’s office after less than two minutes of waiting. It was nice to have someone who always made time to see him, other duties or no. And from the several somewhat disgruntled-looking Senators who were left the room moments before he was called in, Palpatine had actually ended another appointment early to talk to him. It warmed him to know that the Chancellor took him that seriously, believed that he was that important.

Palpatine waited until he was seated before leaning slightly across the table. “Well?” he asked intently. “How fared you on your...excursion? Did it go as planned?”

“Yes and no,” Anakin admitted. “You were right about the Council sending Windu and leaving Obi-Wan in charge, once they thought you wanted it the other way around. And it was pretty easy to talk Obi-Wan into taking me back to the Vault.” Across from him, the Chancellor looked pleased. “ _And_ I found where they keep the Sith holocrons after you got Obi-Wan to step out.”

Palpatine leaned even closer towards him, his eyes gleaming sharply. “And then?”

Anakin winced. “Obi-Wan came back before I could open any of the holocrons. He found me looking at them.” He didn’t really want to think about it - about Obi-Wan’s hurt reaction, about how much trouble he was going to be in with the Council, about how he had _tricked_ his best friend. What he’d done had been a betrayal of Obi-Wan’s trust, of his _friendship_ , plain and simple. And just because it was worth it to save Padme’s life - and anything was, really - or because he wasn’t so sure anymore that the Sith were as evil as everyone made them out to be, didn’t mean he didn’t feel guilty about that personal disloyalty.

Across from him, Palpatine’s face was impassive. “Well, you did your best, my boy,” he said, though his voice was more abrupt than gentle. “Perhaps another plan is in order…”

“I didn’t get a chance to open any of them,” interrupted Anakin. “But I took one. I - I’m not really sure what to do with it. I didn’t mean to take it, not really, and if the Jedi sense me with it I’m out of the Order for sure.”

“You _took_ one,” breathed Palpatine. Anakin could actually feel the excitement radiating off him, which was odd because normally he couldn’t sense _anything_ from the Chancellor. “Where is it?” he asked quickly. “You’re quite right, the Jedi are far too narrow-minded to treat you with any leniency if they found you with it, it ought to go somewhere else for safekeeping. Do you have it with you now?”

Anakin nodded and reached into his robes. Pulling the small pyramid out of his pocket with his mechanical hand, he held it out across the table. “I’m not sure you should touch it, sir,” he said. “There are all sorts of stories about people getting possessed by Sith holocrons.”

Palpatine was staring at the holocron with an intensity Anakin had never seen on him before. “We mustn’t let fear get in our way, my boy,” he said. “I would not be in the position I am today if I had shied away from doing what must be done just because it might have been _dangerous_.”

Anakin’s respect for the man across from him grew. “I understand that, sir,” he said. “But this is the dark side. It’s a different kind of danger than what you might have faced before, and I don’t want you to get hurt.” He hesitated for a moment. Palpatine was right; he’d spent years resenting the Jedi for holding him back, and he couldn’t let his own doubts get in the way now that he had access to something new.

He’d told Padme, once, that he would be the most powerful Jedi ever. That he’d even learn to stop people from dying. But how could he do that if he didn’t go outside the Jedi’s boundaries? After his talks with Palpatine, he wasn’t even so sure that _Sith_ was really equivalent to _evil_ as the Jedi taught. What was it Palpatine had said? _The Sith would be a threat to the Jedi’s power..._ could that really be the true reason that he’d been taught to hate them? A month ago, a _week_ ago, he would have laughed at the prospect. But with how the Council had been acting lately, he was prepared to believe they were capable of anything. “I’ll open it,” he said to Palpatine.

And open it he did.

* * *

 

Padme had been staring at the same page on her datapad for more than five minutes, but it wasn’t sinking in. Her mind kept wandering to the disastrous meeting she’d had with Palpatine a few hours before in which the man she’d once looked to as a mentor had made it clear he had no intentions of listening to her or her colleagues’ concerns about his further amendments to the Constitution. Not that she’d had an easy time focusing lately anyway, what with her concerns about what would happen when the baby was born.

Would she lose her job? Anakin would almost certainly lose his. And where had Anakin _been_ these past few days? Normally he took every chance to see her when he was back on Coruscant, and it was odd that he hadn’t come the night before or come to see her this evening, especially given her condition. Or perhaps that was the problem, maybe Anakin had finally realized what having this baby was going to do to his life with the Jedi and didn’t _want_ to see her...no, that wasn’t fair to him, she was projecting her own worries. Anakin had been ecstatic when she’d told him she was pregnant, and he was no actor.

So where _was_ he?

A chime sounded throughout her apartment, signaling that there was someone at the door. Padme leapt to her feet and hurried into the main sitting room, breathless with excitement and relief.

She found that C-3PO had already let in the visitor. Obi-Wan Kenobi was standing just inside her door, looking uncharacteristically grim.

Padme felt her stomach turn to ice. “Master Kenobi,” she said, voice blank, using every ounce of willpower she had to not let her fear show on her face. “It’s good to see you. Can I help you with anything?”

“Padme,” he said. And his voice was oddly flat, his expression oddly tired. “It’s Anakin.”

 _It’s Anakin._ The words set off every alarm bell in her head, and combined with how _awful_ Obi-Wan looked, how sadness and desperation were permeating through even his Jedi reserve...Padme’s heart pounded, terrible visions flashing through her head. “Has something happened?” she asked, unable to keep her voice from rising an octave.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, then seemed to notice her horror. “No, no, not like that. Gods, I’m sorry, I didn’t think. Anakin isn’t _injured_.”

For a moment, all Padme could do was let her relief wash over her. “I am glad that Knight Skywalker is well,” she said once she had recovered her voice.

Obi-Wan sighed. “I’m not sure that _well_ is the best word,” he said. “And Padme...you don’t have to pretend with me. Not anymore. Anakin told me everything.” Padme froze. _Everything?_ Anakin had been so insistent about not telling Obi-Wan only a few days before. “Or at least I thought he had,” Obi-Wan continued drily. “I’m beginning to think he may have left out a few things.”

“Obi-Wan,” Padme choked out, not sure whether her heart was pounding in fear or relief. “When you say he told you _everything-_ ”

“He told me about your relationship. Your marriage. Your, er,” he gestured at her stomach. “Well, congratulations. Perhaps most importantly, though, he told me about his visions. Padme, I’m so sorry.”

His last words broke through the veil of shock that had begun to settle down around her at the fact that he _knew_. “His visions? Sorry? Obi-Wan, I’m not worried about it. Nobody dies in, in childbirth, not on Coruscant. Anakin’s overreacting. You of all people know how he is.”

Obi-Wan looked taken aback. “Ah,” he said. “Yes, well. I’m glad _you’re_ keeping a cool head about this, but I’m afraid that Anakin’s...overreactions...have gotten quite out of hand. Has he told you what happened last night?”

Padme frowned. “Last night? No, he hasn’t talked to me since earlier yesterday.” She was struck with a feeling of foreboding. “Why, what happened?”

“What happened,” said Obi-Wan, “is that Anakin went looking for a way to protect you from his visions in one of the most restricted parts of the Temple. He was caught by Master Windu and the rest of the Council.”

She raised a hand to cover her mouth. _Ani, my love, why can’t you just let it go?_ But she knew why, knew exactly why, having been present for the awful aftermath of his last vision. If there was one thing Anakin Skywalker was incapable of, it was allowing someone he cared about to get hurt. Which wasn’t a bad thing in and of itself, but her husband never knew when to _stop._ “Is he in trouble? Do...do they know what he was looking for?”

“Yes, they know,” Obi-Wan replied. “That is, they are aware of the content of his visions. I am the only one Anakin told of his, er, personal connection to the matter. As far as the rest of the Council is concerned, Anakin’s trespass was merely a misguided attempt to help a friend. He’s in trouble, but will not be expelled. Not for that particular transgression.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, the situation has become much more complicated.”

Padme relaxed slightly. Anakin wouldn’t be expelled; that bought them a little more time. “Thank you, Obi-Wan,” she said. “For not telling.” _I knew you wouldn’t; I_ told _Anakin._ “That means a lot, to both of us.” She smiled a little and patted her stomach. “Or rather, all three of us.” Not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer, she hesitated a moment before asking, “More complicated how?”

The look on Obi-Wan’s face that appeared in response made her _very_ sure she didn’t want to know. _I have a bad feeling about this._

* * *

 

Chancellor Palpatine, beloved leader of the Republic and Dark Lord of the Sith, had never been one to give in to bouts of sentiment. When he had been elected Supreme Chancellor, he had felt no pleasure other than in anticipation of how the position would facilitate his future plans. Killing Plagueis to take the title of Master for himself had brought no regrets, nor had the death by his own command of his most recent apprentice. Though passion could be used to fuel one’s strength, a _true_ Sith knew that real power came from the icy clarity of caring for nothing and nobody except insofar as they were useful to one’s plans. No, Sidious had not maintained his facade of goodness these many years by allowing himself to give into the fickle chaos of _emotion_.

And yet...and yet watching his heir apparent, the boy whose mind he’d put more than a decade into shaping, make a conscious and calculated decision to call upon the power of the dark side in order to open one of the Sith’s greatest treasures which had been stolen and trapped in the hands of their enemies for Force knew how many centuries, Palpatine was filled with a sensation he couldn’t quite identify...

Pride. That was it. _Pride._ Anakin Skywalker had always been a personal favorite project of his, one he’d always hoped would fulfill his dark potential and submit to becoming part of Sidious’ decades-long masterpiece. But that the mercurial young man had sought the darkness out for himself, was in the process of actively claiming his place in Bane’s legacy, that was an artistic touch for which Palpatine had not dared hope.

Yet here the boy was, concentrating on the holocron in front of him with his eyes intent and lips pursed slightly in concentration. If he had wanted to, Sidious could have activated the artifact in moments. But this was so much more gratifying.

For all his years spent masking his true self, he could not help the small smile that played about on his lips when a holographic figure, clothed in dark robes, appeared and began to speak.

* * *

 

Parsecs away from Coruscant, entirely unaware of the galaxy-shaping events taking place half the galaxy away, Mace Windu and his battalion of clone troopers arrived in the Utapau system. The final battle of the Clone Wars was about to begin. 


	9. Knowledge

There was a long, heavy silence after Obi-Wan finished telling Padme of the day’s events. She wasn’t looking at him, was instead staring off out the window over the coruscating city to where the Temple building stood. Her face was pale, her eyes horrified, and one hand, for reasons Obi-Wan couldn’t understand, was clasped at the neckline of her dress. After a moment, he realized she was clutching a necklace.

Obi-Wan was relieved to see that she grasped the seriousness of the situation, though not entirely surprised. If there was one non-Jedi who understood the true gravity of the Sith threat, it was Padme Amidala. And if there was one _person_ , in all the galaxy, who cared for Anakin as much as he did, then that would be her as well.

“I just,” Padme said, then shook her head. “I just can’t believe that he would do that. Not my Anakin. He _hates_ the Sith; I know he does. Why would he turn to their teachings for power?”

“If I knew the answer to that, I needn’t have come,” replied Obi-Wan. “It’s possible that Anakin didn’t understand what he was getting into. The opposite is equally likely, and I just don’t know. Not anymore. He’s under a lot of stress, and lately it’s been making him...difficult.” He looked at her imploringly. “Padme, I need you to tell me if you think his nightmares are enough to drive him to do something like this on purpose.”

She was silent, staring at the floor.

“Padme,” he repeated. “I only want to _help_ Anakin. I know it’s hard to accept his actions” because Obi-Wan himself was still having trouble believing what he’d seen “but the fact remains that neither of us can do him any good by being in denial.” He sighed. “I ought to know, as _my_ denial about your relationship is part of what got us into this mess.”

Padme raised her eyes to look at him. “You...you would help him, then?” she said. “Even if he’d gone in knowingly, you wouldn’t turn him in to the Council?” After a moment, she added hastily: “I’m not saying I think he did. I just, I need to know.”

Obi-Wan hesitated. “I would help him,” he said slowly. Padme arched an eyebrow - it seemed there was no getting away with being evasive with a politician of her caliber. “Padme, you must understand,” he pleaded. “The Council would need to know. For Anakin’s own sake, he’d need more help than I could personally give him. He’s not too far gone yet, he hasn’t done anything irrevocable, and we must be sure he _stays_ that way.” If not...he didn’t want to think about _if not._

The eyebrow stayed up. “I think you underestimate yourself, Obi-Wan,” Padme said quietly. “Yourself, and maybe him as well.”

“Padme-”

She stood up swiftly from the couch and walked over to the window. “Obi-Wan, I don’t know _either._ I trust - I _love_ Anakin, I can’t just believe that he’d seek out the dark side on purpose. I just can’t.” She hesitated for a moment, then turned to face him. Without meeting his eyes, she said, “I can believe that he’d do something, something irrational, on the spur of the moment. I have,” and she paused for a moment, as though struggling to say the words, “...seen him do things he wouldn’t normally do, for someone he cared about. Not premeditated, just-” she broke off, shaking her head. “He wouldn’t go _looking_ for darkness.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Obi-Wan. And he did, desperately.

“I hope so, too.” Padme’s voice cracked on the last word, and she turned quickly away from him again, burying her face in her hands.

Alarmed, Obi-Wan hurried over to her. “Padme-” He trailed off helplessly, not sure what comfort he could offer.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry, I just - I’m _pregnant._ Anakin and I are going to have a family. This should be a happy time, we should be celebrating, but instead - instead he’s doing this, and I’m not sure I _do_ trust him, not entirely. Even though I love him, lately I just can’t - and I _should_ , I’m his wife.”

Obi-Wan felt even more useless than he had the moment before. Placing a gentle hand on Padme’s shoulder, he said, “Anakin loves you. Perhaps it has driven him to rash action, but surely you can help him work through whatever anxiety he may be feeling over his nightmares.”

Padme pulled away from him and wiped her face on her sleeve. “Don’t you think I haven’t tried?” she demanded, “I told him not to worry about it. I _told_ him to let it go. And - and it’s not just this, it’s him and Palpatine. Mostly Palpatine, I guess. Obi-Wan, have you seen what that man is doing to democracy? He chips away at our rights, at the Constitution, at everything that makes the Republic a republic.” She shook her head. “All he wants is more and more power, and people seem happy to give it to him. _Anakin_ seems happy. Gods, I actually _did_ give him more power, and to this day I’m not sure if he tricked me into thinking he was a better option than Valorum, or if it was merely my own foolishness.”

“This isn’t your fault, Padme,” said Obi-Wan. “He would have found a way to get into this position with your help or without it. Besides, not everyone supports him.”

“No. And this afternoon, I went to him with a petition from all us Senators who oppose him and are brave enough to say it, all two-thousand of us.” Padme began to pace, gesticulating frustratedly as she talked. “Obi-Wan, he completely blew us off! He didn’t even try to pretend that he cared about our cause, or that he has any intention of giving up his so-called emergency powers. The way he acted, like _we_ were the traitors...I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the two thousand start supporting him, just to save their own necks. And I wouldn’t blame them!”

Well, that was disturbing. As if Obi-Wan needed another thing to worry about. “I wish I could be more surprised,” he said. “Though, it was not merely to Senators that I was referring. There are some within the Jedi Order who also oppose Palpatine’s rule. Not Anakin, of course, but others. And though perhaps I shouldn’t be speaking of it…” he stopped for a moment, weighed the benefits of openness against the need for secrecy. “Padme, there are those on the Council who are prepared to take action to remove Palpatine from office should there be no other choice.”

Padme nodded slowly. “I have heard similar talk from a small group of Senators. I promised not to tell anybody, so I can’t name names. But the sentiment is there, and - and I think the support of the Jedi would greatly relieve us.”

Obi-Wan didn’t reply for a long minute. Was this really what it had come to, discussing the possibility of the Jedi and the Senate conspiring together to commit _treason_? Yet he was increasingly sure that Palpatine was up to something. “I don’t think we ought to act too hastily,” he told her eventually. “Master Windu is on his way to Utapau right now, and if he can kill General Grievous and end the war, the Chancellor be forced to make his intentions clear. If he does relinquish his ‘emergency powers’ as he promised without any intervention, so much the better. If he doesn’t, then there will be a legal basis for removing him from office.”

Padme crossed her arms. “Palpatine isn’t stupid. If he’s not going to leave, and I’d bet all the credits in my pockets against all they credits in _your_ pockets that he isn’t, he’ll be prepared to deal with opposition. Acting hastily could make things worse, but any discussion should start happening _now_ , so that we may be prepared as well.”

Obi-Wan had no rebuttal to that. “I’ll discuss the idea with the rest of the Council,” he said finally.

“Good,” Padme replied. “And I’ll talk to my...group.”

"Speaking of," said Obi-Wan, "There is some possibility that your...extracurriculars...could be making you a political target."

"You know that's never stopped me before," Padme said, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you think I would let that stop me now, when the stakes are so much higher?"

"I wasn't suggesting you _stop_ ," Obi-Wan said. No, he knew her better than that. She’d barely agreed to Jedi protection even when they had _known_ an assassin was after her. "However, it occurred to me that Anakin's visions could be related to any danger you might be in, if you think death from purely natural causes is unlikely."

Padme frowned. "You think an assassin could make it look like I died in childbirth? That seems unlikely, Obi-Wan."

He shrugged. "Perhaps. I admit I initially came up with the idea partly to justify to the other Jedi who caught Anakin why he would be dreaming of your death." Still, he felt the idea merited some consideration.

"I see," she said. "Thank you again for covering for us, Obi-Wan. You didn't have to, and I know how much your duty to the Jedi means to you. I truly do appreciate it."

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably. "I couldn’t have told,” he said. “I could see you were a good influence on Anakin, and besides, I could hardly let him get expelled. He still needs the structure of the Jedi, I think, and moreover, the Order needs him. Especially in times like these.”

“It’s not going to last for much longer, though,” Padme reminded him. “Once the child is born, the rest of the Council is going to figure it out sooner or later. What will happen to Anakin then?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Obi-Wan. “I want him to be happy, Padme, I do. But in light of recent events, it cannot be denied that his attachment to you is interfering with his duty, and clouding his judgment in potentially dangerous ways.” And even _that_ was something of an understatement.

Padme looked down at the floor. “I know,” she said. “But I have to have faith in him to do the right thing eventually. He might be misguided in the short term, but surely once the baby is born and his nightmares pass…” She lifted her chin and looked back at him. “Let’s just try to get through this with the war over, Palpatine out of office, and my child and I alive. After that, we can work through any other obstacles.”

Obi-Wan would have added ‘the Sith dead’ and ‘Anakin out of trouble’ to that list, but he agreed with the sentiment; besides, he thought that the first was unlikely to happen without negating the second if the prophecy was to be believed.

Still, he thought as he voiced his agreement, he could at least attempt to keep Anakin close enough that any trouble the younger man found they could face together. The last thing he wanted was to be unaware the next time his friend did something as reckless and dangerous as messing around with Sith holocrons.

* * *

 

Anakin had never messed around with Sith holocrons before this moment, and he was irrationally pleased at how _easily_ this one responded to his Force manipulation. It opened, and his insides twisted in a mess of excitement mixed with apprehension, curiosity mixed with guilt. _Should I be doing this?_

There was no time for second thoughts. A figure, some sort of humanoid male - a Zelosian, maybe? - appeared.

 _“I am Darth Rivan,”_ he said, and an odd chill went down Anakin’s voice at the sound of his voice. “ _And you, if you have the power and the will to access this holocron, then you may be worthy of what I have to say. So listen well.”_ There was something hypnotic about the way he spoke, and Anakin leaned forward unconsciously. Across from him, and unnoticed, Palpatine did the same. _”There are some who seek out darkness to gain powers. They are fools. Not because they think darkness is the path to true power, that much has been proved time and time again. But because they think it is something which must be searched for, in Sith teachings or on worlds that are focal points for the dark side. Not so; the most important darkness lies within. Look inward, be honest about what you see, and do not try to deny or justify it._

_“The dark, cold place which lies within each of us is the truest part of ourselves. Accept it; it is both the reality of who you are, and the path to who you can become. Accept it, for in doing so you are only accepting yourself. Accept it, and the acceptance of others will matter no longer, for you will find the strength to free yourself from the restrictions that their judgment has placed on you. Only then will you be able to harness the freedom that has always resided within you. The freedom to decide what you want from the galaxy, and the freedom to take it. That is the true power of the darkness._

_“Look inward.”_ Somehow, he seemed to look straight into Anakin’s eyes. He shivered, but did not - could not - look away. “ _See who you truly are, not the mask you pretend to be. Acknowledge your own secret desires, for why should they be secret? If you have the power to make them reality, then do so. Others may bow to laws, or the weight of others expectations, or the bondage of morality. Yet each of those things is but a dewdrop compared to the ocean of power found in one strong in the Force who is unafraid to use that strength. One who has the might to bend the Force to their will has the right to do the same with the galaxy._

_“Embrace your passions; they make you strong. But understand them also; to see yourself clearly is to do the same with the galaxy. Otherwise, they will blind you - and it is the light which blinds; a true Sith can find clarity in darkness. Let go of the things you feel ought to matter to you, and act on the ones which truly do._

_“Understand that pain is nothing, except perhaps a teaching tool. Emotions are nothing, unless they serve your cause. Rules and laws are nothing, except constraints for your enemies. Your enemies are nothing, or they will be soon if you accept the power within you. The Force is nothing, for it is only as strong as the ones who use it. Only you are something. One who contains the Force within them contains the galaxy; conquer one and the other will soon follow._

_“So I repeat: look inward. Find your darkness, and explore its depths. Choose what you want, whatever you want, and accept no restrictions as you take what is rightfully yours. Listen to the other teachings I have stored in this holocron, if you wish, but remember that even I cannot record as much knowledge of the dark side as what you already possess within you. Bend the Force to your will, and it will give you all the specifics you need.”_

_“Farewell, my dark brother or sister. May you embrace the power of the Force within you to its fullest potential.”_ And with that, the figure disappeared.

For a moment, Anakin sat silently, unable to break out of the daze that hypnotic voice had put him in.

"Well, _that_ was interesting," murmured Palpatine, and Anakin snapped out of it.

He stood up quickly, almost knocking his chair over backward in his haste. "I, I have to go," he stammered. "I should - I shouldn't have...I have to go."

He fled from the room, never seeing the satisfied smirk that spread across the Chancellor's face as he left.

* * *

 

Upon his return to the Temple, the first thing Obi-Wan did was check in on Anakin and make sure he hadn't gone wandering somewhere _else_ he shouldn't be. He stopped outside the younger man's room and extended his senses. Thankfully, his former apprentice's Force signature still registered bright across Obi-Wan's consciousness, though it was unusually turbulent. That was no surprise; considering the day's event, he'd be more worried if Anakin didn't seem disturbed or upset.

For a moment, Obi-Wan considered knocking. He hesitated with his hand a few centimeters away from the door - on the one hand, he and Anakin really did need to talk about this. On the other, it was getting rather late, and there was nothing to be said between them that couldn't be said in the morning when they'd both gotten some time to rest. Besides which, he'd been neglecting his Council duties since earlier that afternoon, and he really ought to get an update on the Utapau situation before he went to bed. Not to mention that Yoda and Mace at least should hear what Padme had told him about her group of senators...

Yes, Anakin would have to wait. It might even be better to have this discussion with him once he'd had some time to reflect on the seriousness of his actions. Obi-Wan turned away from the door, and headed instead up towards the Council chamber. Halfway there, he was met by Agen Kolar coming in the opposite direction.

"Obi-Wan!" the other Master said. "I was just about to comm you. We've just received word from Master Windu on Utapau."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan asked. "Has he been successful, then?"

Agen sighed. "Well, yes and no. He defeated Grievous in combat, but the General was able to flee to another sinkhole before Mace could bring him in. Mace destroyed his starfighter, though, so he shouldn't be able to get off-planet. Right now it just seems to be a matter of tracking him down. Unfortunately, most of the clone troopers are still busy fighting the droid army Grievous left behind, so they can't pull out and help in the search."

Obi-Wan nodded. He wasn't entirely surprised at the complication; Grievous had always proved to be a slippery foe to catch.

So now it was down to Mace Windu's ability to pin him down. _May the Force be with you, my friend._

* * *

 

Anakin sat hunched on top of his bed, fists curled into the bedcovers. A thousand conflicting thoughts were whirring through his head, and somehow he couldn't quite manage to catch his breath. _I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have listened to that, that was all so wrong..._

 _...except for the parts of it that seemed all right. All true._ And what about Padme? Could he let his own apprehension get in the way of her safety?

It was all too much, happening too fast. The walls of his room seemed to press in on him, and his head was starting to get dizzy again. He felt trapped: by the Temple itself, by his need to save Padme, by the Jedi, and most of all by the entrancing, promising words that had issued from Rivan's mouth.

_I can't take advice from a Sith! Can I?_

The dark side was evil. He'd seen that in Dooku and Maul and Ventress, not to mention whoever the Sith responsible for starting this war was. They were murderers and liars.

But then again, so was he. He'd slaughtered an entire village, had spent the past three years lying about his relationship with Padme to his best friend and the Order he was sworn to. At this point, how much further could he fall? And the holocron's words didn't _feel_ like lies. Deep beneath the surface, he always had felt a certain... _fire_ , a power he knew he wasn't supposed to tap into.

Shaking for reasons that had nothing to do with temperature, he wrapped his arms around his knees. _How can I even consider this?_ And a voice which sounded oddly like Palpatine's whispered back, _how can you not?_

If it worked, he could save Padme. But he had no guarantee that it _would_ work, and he could just as easily be cast out of the Jedi for nothing. Obi-Wan would be disappointed, probably even disgusted, and Padme might die anyway. Rivan had said nothing of healing techniques. _But the other things he said, about accepting my power and not being afraid to use it, about being free from restrictions and not having to hide behind a mask..._ There had been part of him that had always felt like he was just a pretender within the Jedi, not really able to live by any of their highest ideals. Maybe he could work out a cure for Padme by himself, if he would only use the power that lay deep within his bones. Or maybe he'd get so distracted trying that he wouldn't be able to spend the last of her precious time with her - in fact, he hadn't seen her the past two days because he'd been so busy searching.

He could go to her right now. The idea of talking through what he'd done, what he might do, with someone who could tell him he wasn't crazy and suggest a path out through this mess appealed to him. At the same time, though, it felt wrong, like his soul had been tainted by Rivan's words, and he could contaminate her if he got too close. He didn't _want_ Padme to ask him where he'd been, because he was afraid that his answer would produce in her that same look he'd seen three years ago on Tatooine, the one that said she didn't understand him, that said _I love you, but you scare me._ He wasn't sure he could bear to face that.

And talking about this with Obi-Wan was completely out of the question. No matter how much his friend's calm stability might do him good, he couldn't stand the thought of how Obi-Wan would feel if he knew what Anakin was thinking. The look of hurt and confusion and betrayal and anger when he'd seen Anakin just standing in the Sith vault had been bad enough. But if he knew that Anakin had _taken_ a holocron, had opened it instead of confessing immediately...Obi-Wan might never trust him again. Might even hate him for taking advantage of his goodwill in bringing Anakin back to the Vault. It could be the end of their friendship.

The idea of what either of the two most important people in his world might think if he confessed the thoughts that had taken over his brain since that night of the opera left him paralyzed with fear. Just the thought of it made his chest constrict, his breath quicken, and the tremors running throughout his body turn into outright shakes. He couldn’t tell them. He _couldn’t._

More conflicted than he'd ever been in his life, Anakin rested his forehead onto his knees. He knew he wouldn't sleep that night, but at least he could look inward.

Look inward, and be honest about what he saw.


	10. Conflict

It was just after daybreak that Obi-Wan was woken up by the transmission from Utapau. A holoprojection of Mace Windu appeared, looking tired but satisfied. “ _Grievous is dead,”_ he said without preamble. _“I caught up with him eventually; he couldn’t hide forever.”_

“That,” said Obi-Wan slowly, “is the best news I’ve heard in a long while.” In fact, he couldn’t remember anything in his life going _right_ since he and Anakin had successfully rescued the Chancellor from Dooku on the Invisible Hand. “Will you be back soon, then?”

 _“There’s still some mopping up to do,”_ Mace replied. _“Some of these sinkholes are completely overrun with droids, and there are starting to be civilian casualties among the Utapauns. It could take a few hours to clear them all out.”_

Obi-Wan nodded. “Understood.”

_“And how are things on Coruscant? Has Anakin gotten anywhere with the Sith?””_

For a moment, Obi-Wan experienced total panic. “Gotten anywhere?” he asked, heart pounding rapidly in his chest. How could Mace have known...

_“With Palpatine, I mean. Has he come any closer to identifying which of his advisors might be Sidious?”_

“Oh. Right.” He’d been so worried about Anakin’s trip into the Sith vault, his friend’s actual mission had completely slipped his mind. “No, I don’t think he has.” Remembering his conversation with Padme, Obi-Wan added, “However, I’ve been in contact with a representative of a group of Senators who oppose Palpatine’s constitutional amendments. With their help, we may be able to create a substantial obstacle to any further power grabs.”

 _“Hmm,”_ said Mace. _“Force-willing, that won’t become necessary. Obi-Wan, I want you to go to Palpatine personally to tell him of Grievous’ death. Watch to see how he reacts. If Anakin hasn’t had any success before now, it’s possible you were right and he’s too close to Palpatine to read him objectively, and we_ must _know what the Chancellor’s planning.”_

“I understand,” Obi-Wan said. Part of him wished that Mace had a little more faith in Anakin; part of him knew that after last night, faith might be a naive thing to have. And part of him was just relieved that Anakin wasn’t being sent to spy on Palpatine again, not when he knew how much Anakin hated it. “May the Force be with you, Master Windu.”

_“And with you, Obi-Wan."_

* * *

Obi-Wan was made to wait outside the Chancellor’s office for a good half an hour before the man would see him. He forced himself not to get impatient; it would do him no good to go into this meeting with his mind clouded with annoyance. When Palpatine finally sent for him, he allowed no trace of his frustration to show on his face as he walked into the office.

He was struck with a sense of _wrongness_ the moment he stepped through the door. The sensation was odd - not the general clouding of the Force that had been worsening since the war had begun, but a concentrated darkness that he couldn’t identify. So taken off guard was he by the unexpected malevolence, Palpatine was forced to repeat his greeting of “Good day, Master Kenobi” twice before Obi-Wan responded.

Palpatine himself was genial and calm as ever. He exhibited only pleasure and relief at the information about Grievous’s death, and if Obi-Wan hadn’t been keeping himself up to date on all the ways the Chancellor had been restructuring the government to bring power towards his own office, it would have been easy to believe that the man was exactly what he seemed to be. “So does this mean we can declare the war officially over, then?” he asked Palpatine cautiously. Doing so would mean an end to the Chancellor’s ‘emergency powers.’

“Oh, not quite yet,” Palpatine said, and Obi-Wan’s heart sank. “We’ll need a formal surrender from the other Separatist leaders, Nute Gunray and his cabal, first.” He smiled widely. “Still, I have no doubt that all of this will be over very soon.”

A chill ran down Obi-Wan’s back as he said it, and the feeling of darkness intensified. Suspicion began to creep over him, not due to any evidence or specific thing the man had said. Or perhaps it was a great deal of things all adding up at once, years of pulling watching the man expertly pull strings to gain power over the Republic and the Jedi, and this new feeling of darkness surrounding Palpatine simply the final straw. They had theorized that the Darth Sidious was someone in Palpatine’s inner circle, someone who had gained his trust and was manipulating him. What if Palpatine knew _exactly_ who it was, and was working with him to gain power? Or, even more horrifying, what if…he could hardly bear to think it.

Obi-Wan decided to throw caution to the wind. “The Jedi will be most grateful for the war to end,” he said. “As you know, we believe there is a second Sith Lord who has manipulated the conflict from the start.” They had told Palpatine of the possible danger after Dooku had revealed himself as a Sith, for the Chancellor had demanded to know everything the Jedi did about what sort of threat he might pose. Obi-Wan wondered now if that had all been an act. “We will be most relieved once we are sure we have derailed his plans.”

This time, Palpatine did react. He stiffened slightly, glancing away as the smile slipped off his face. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “I, of course, am also quite invested in the Jedi’s pursuit of the Sith. May it turn out well.”  
Obi-Wan kept his face as carefully blank as possible. Now, it was more than a suspicion: Palpatine definitely knew more about the Sith than he had let on. The only question was, he thought as he hurriedly said his goodbye and left before Palpatine could realize he had caught on, how had none of them noticed before?

* * *

 

Palpatine smiled. Kenobi had taken the bait, he was sure of it. That any Jedi who visited his office would sense the holocron had been easy enough to predict, and though it would have been simple enough to keep it elsewhere, he’d ultimately decided that this was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. It would be best to make his move with both Yoda and Windu off Coruscant, and of course he couldn’t put things off too long lest Padme Amidala give birth and his greatest hold over his soon-to-be-apprentice broken one way or another.

No, it was time to force a crisis. The Jedi were already suspicious of him, and he hoped that the aura surrounding the holocron would make those suspicions too strong to ignore. Palpatine was long past ready for a confrontation.

And he was quite sure that Obi-Wan Kenobi was going to bring one to him.

* * *

 

Obi-Wan hurried through the corridors of the Temple, barely taking notice of his surroundings. How could he have been so blind? Lost in his thoughts, he nearly ran into the person coming around a corner in the opposite direction.

“Obi-Wan!” He skidded to a halt at the sight of Anakin, who had also stopped in his tracks and was looking at him with a mixture of apprehension and guilt. “Um, is something going on?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, then closed it again. Anakin would _never_ believe an accusation like this about Palpatine, not without proof. And given how unstable his former apprentice had been acting these past few days, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure it was a good idea to be testing his conflicted loyalties any further. Better to keep Anakin out of this one, at least until they had some evidence.

“Obi-Wan?” There was confusion evident in the younger man’s voice, and Obi-Wan realized he hadn’t answered his question.

“Yes, actually,” he said after a moment. “Master Windu was successful on Utapau; General Grievous has been killed.”

“Oh!” said Anakin. “That’s, uh, that’s great.” He stared at the floor. “Obi-Wan, look, about yesterday…” he trailed off, fidgeting nervously.

Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. For all that he’d made a conscious decision to wait until this morning to talk to Anakin about it, somehow he still wasn’t quite prepared for the conversation. “Anakin, why did you you _do_ it?”

Anakin rubbed the nape of his neck, visibly distressed. “I just - I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. I wasn’t thinking straight, I guess.”

Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan prayed to the Force for patience. “That may have worked as an excuse for your reckless behavior when you were a Padawan, but this is a completely different situation. You should have known better, Anakin. You should have known better, and it hurts me that you took advantage of my trust like that. Do you have any idea of the trouble I could be in for letting you in there? You weren’t even supposed to know the Sith holocrons existed!”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” he said again, looking miserable. “And you didn’t, you didn’t _let_ me in. Obi-Wan, you were the one who pulled me out of there when I was getting sucked in. It was my fault; no one can possibly blame you for what I did.” He folded his arms.

“I was the one who let you in the Vault in the first place,” Obi-Wan said. “And apparently, I should have known better than to think you could behave yourself for _five minutes_ while I wasn’t in the room.”

Anakin flinched, his hands gripping his upper arms as he glanced downward again. “I know. I shouldn’t have. I was just...I was worried about Padme. I was desperate, I wasn’t thinking about, about any of that.”

“I know you weren’t,” said Obi-Wan, running his hand through his hair. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Anakin, I thought you agreed to tell me what you were thinking. I am trying to help you, you know.”

“I know,” Anakin said. “It...it was stupid.” He bit his lip. “Obi-Wan, do you really think it was so awful? I mean, I’m not - I didn’t _hurt_ anyone, I wasn’t planning on doing anything _bad,_ I was just...looking.”

“Just looking?” The pitch of Obi-Wan’s voice rose high in incredulity. “Anakin, do you even remember what you were like? I had to _drag_ you out of there, kicking and screaming.” It might have started with ‘just looking,’ but there was no denying that it had gone farther than that. Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “No, you didn’t hurt anyone, or plan on doing anything wrong. But the dark side is dangerous, corrupting. The fact that you exposed yourself to it at all is what worries me.” His tone softened. “I know you have good intentions, Anakin. You always do. But that isn’t enough, not always. Just...talk to me about this. Padme and I can help you, but only if you let us.”

“I was going to go talk to Padme, actually,” Anakin admitted. “I haven’t been to see her recently, not since I first went into the Archives.”

“Good,” said Obi-Wan, relieved. After the previous day’s conversation, he was hopeful that Padme might be able to get through to Anakin and calm his anxiety. Or at the very least, she could keep him from getting into any more trouble while Obi-Wan dealt with the Palpatine situation. “You should definitely do that.” He smiled, placing a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “You and I can talk more later, once everything calms down. But in the meantime, Anakin...we _will_ get through this, understand? The war is almost over, and we’ll be able to focus on helping Padme quite soon. So just hang on for a little bit longer, my young friend. All right?”

Anakin nodded, leaning slightly forward into the contact. “All right,” he said quietly.

For a long moment, they stood silently in that position. Then, remembering the reason for his earlier urgency, Obi-Wan pulled away. “Say hello to Padme for me, would you?”

“Will do,” Anakin replied.

And with that, they went their separate ways, Obi-Wan never seeing Anakin’s smile slip as he walked off in the opposite direction.

* * *

 

Nobody commented on the fact that Anakin hadn’t been invited to the Council meeting. Obi-Wan was torn between gratitude - for the last thing he wanted to do was explain his sudden loss of confidence in his friend’s ability to remain objective - and sadness, because it only demonstrated how little faith the others had in Anakin. Somehow, despite the events of the past two days, Obi-Wan still wished the others would trust Anakin just a tiny bit more.

He and Agen Kolar were the only ones physically present. Yoda was there via hologram, as was Ki-Adi-Mundi and Plo Koon. Everyone else was too busy, each fighting their own battle on a distant planet, to attend. It didn’t take long for Obi-Wan to relay the news of Mace’s victory...and to tell of his own experience.

“ _Sure you are that it was the dark side you sensed, young Obi-Wan?_ ” inquired Yoda.

“Absolutely, Master,” Obi-Wan said. “And it was surrounding Palpatine specifically, I’m quite sure of it. If he’s not the Sith Lord, he’s certainly directly connected.”

Even the normally implacable Ki-Adi Mundi looked perturbed at that announcement. _“Palpatine himself? This is worse than we dared imagine.”_

 _“I agree,”_ said Plo. _“Even if he’s not actually the Sith Lord, if he’s been working for him, then the Republic has been under the direct control of the dark side for more than a decade. We can’t let this go any further._ ”

“But nor can we act without specific evidence.” Obi-Wan had been thinking it through ever since the meeting. “Palpatine will deny any accusation we make against him, and I have no doubt the Senate will side with him- without proof, all we can do is alert the Sith Lord that we’re on to him.”

The image of Ki-Adi frowned. _“I don’t think we can in good conscience let a Sith control the Republic because we’re worried about the_ political _consequences. And I highly doubt that there’s going to be any evidence just laying around - we know that both Palpatine and Sidious are smart, whether they’re the same person or not._ ”

 _“Hmm,_ ” said Yoda. “ _Agree with Master Mundi, I do. But agree with Master Kenobi, I do also. A dilemma we have.”_

“Look,” Obi-Wan said. “I suppose Ki-Adi has a point about acting now. It’s likely the Sith is prepared for us to figure it out at some point, and the only element of surprise we might have is in our timing. However, I _also_ think that we have to find some evidence before we take any sort of official action.” He caught Master Yoda’s eye, silently asking him for support. “The Senate will never uphold any sort of conviction without proof, and making an accusation of this sort will only turn public opinion against us.”

_“An alternative, you see, Obi-Wan?”_

Obi-Wan nodded. “I’ll go back to Palpatine, and this time, I won’t go alone. Here is what I propose…”

* * *

 

Just stepping into Padme’s apartment was usually enough to make Anakin relax. Over the past three years, it had become a haven for him away from the violence of the war and the pressure of being a Jedi. A safe space, without stress or judgment or blasterfire. But now…

Now it just reminded him of what he stood to lose if his visions came true.

“Anakin!” For a moment, his worries and exhaustion melted away as Padme hurried out to greet him. “Oh Ani, I haven’t seen you in _days._ ” She flew into his arms, and he buried his face in her neck. She was right; it had been too long since they had been together. Forget the months that they had spent apart because of the war; right now, Anakin didn’t think he could have stood another hour without seeing her face.

For a short eternity, he simply stood there and clutched her close to him. Breathing in her scent, fingers tightening in the folds of her dress, allowing her simple presence to soothe him as it always had. "Padme, how are you feeling?"

"Fine," she mumbled against his shoulder.

"Are you really?" he asked anxiously.

Padme pulled back half a step, reaching up to stroke his face with her hand; he nuzzled slightly into the touch. "Anakin, I'm _fine_ ," she said. "I told you not to worry about the nightmares. Nothing's going to happen to me."

He wished he could believe that was true. "You're right," he said, and for a moment her face lit up with relief. "Nothing _is_ going to happen to you. I won't let it."

"Anakin, don't-"

"Don't what?" Her continued cavalier attitude towards her own life was starting to grate on his nerves. "You're my _wife._ What's wrong with me wanting to save you?"

"With _wanting_ to save me? Oh, Anakin, nothing. But..." He sensed a brief flare of nervousness from her. "But there is a problem when your actions start getting out of hand,” she continued quietly.

This time, it was Anakin who took a step back. “What? How did-” he cut himself off, realization striking as he suddenly placed a familiar Force-signature lingering in the apartment. “You’ve been talking to _Obi-Wan_ about me?” How could Obi-Wan go behind his back to rat him out to Padme like that? And how could Padme _believe_ him? Okay, yes, so in this case Obi-Wan had probably been telling the truth about what Anakin had done, but she still should have waited to hear _his_ side of the story. “What did he tell you?” Anakin demanded, grabbing her wrist.

Padme yanked her arm away from him. “He told me he was _worried_ about you Anakin, that’s all. He explained what you’ve been trying to do the past couple days. I know you just want to help me, Ani, and I appreciate the thought, but there are limits I don’t want you to cross, and-”

“I can’t believe this,” Anakin said, hands balling into fists “I can’t believe he came to you and started accusing me without giving _me_ a chance to explain _first_.”

“He didn’t come here to _accuse_ you of anything, Anakin,” Padme snapped. “He came here to talk to me about your nightmares and make sure I was all right. Yes, he ended up talking to me about you, but only because he wants to help you.”

Anakin felt the anger drain away, replaced by a surge of guilt. “He came over to check in on you?” It seemed Obi-Wan was doing a better job of taking care of Padme than he had been, these past few days.

“Yes,” Padme said. “He did.”

And _why_ couldn’t Anakin seem to remember that Obi-Wan was being supportive? His former master had done nothing but try to help him since his first break-in, but somehow, there was something in the back of his mind that kept whispering that it couldn’t possibly last. That after how he’d taken advantage of Obi-Wan’s trust to steal Rivan’s holocron, he didn’t _deserve_ for it to last…

“Oh,” he said eventually. “Um, look. I’m sorry Padme, I shouldn’t have snapped.” He rubbed his forehead. "I'm just a little stressed, that's all."

"I know," said Padme. "We all are. The war..."

"Will be over soon." For once, it seemed he had the chance to be the bearer of _good_ news. "Grievous was killed a few hours ago."

Padme smiled widely. "He was? That's...certainly a relief to hear." Almost to herself, she added, "Palpatine will _have_ step down, now."

Anakin glared at her. "You say that as though it's a good thing," he said, crossing his arms. "Palpatine's term in office has been the best thing that could have happened to the Republic." Not to mention how supportive Palpatine had always been of him, how supportive he was being right now about Anakin's exploration of the Sith Vault.

Padme opened her mouth, hesitated, then shut it again. "Let's not argue about that right now," she said.

"Fine," Anakin said. He didn't like to hear people doubting the old man who had mentored and encouraged him for so many years, but he _hated_ fighting with Padme even more. Though, now that he thought about it, he probably should go visit Palpatine again soon. The night before, Rivan's holocron had freaked him out enough that he'd run out of the man's office without any explanation. Now, conflicted as he still was about whether to keep investigating the secrets of the holocron, he thought it might do him good to talk to the Chancellor about it. Palpatine had always given him good advice in the past, and he couldn't think of anyone else who could give him objective guidance about what to do.

That could wait, though, at least for the next little while. Right now, though, before he went back to the world of Sith and Jedi and conflict, he intended to spend some time with his wife while he still could.

* * *

 

Four Jedi Masters entered the office of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine.

He welcomed them with a smile and a warm greeting, the very picture of geniality. But Obi-Wan Kenobi could still sense the concentrated darkness that surrounded him, even more strongly now than it had been earlier that morning. And from the looks on the faces of his fellow Jedi, he was not the only one.

"Chancellor,” he said, stepping forward. "We have a very serious matter to discuss with you."

"Oh?" Palpatine raised an elegant eyebrow.  "And what might that be?"

"As you know, the Jedi have been investigating the possibility of a Sith Lord residing on Coruscant for some time," Obi-Wan said, watching Palpatine's face carefully for any reaction. Behind him, he could sense the other three Masters fanning out around the office. "We have some reason to believe that the Sith might be someone you know. Someone who works for you, perhaps."

"Someone who works for me?" Palpatine repeated. "How awful." He steepled his fingers together, leaning forward. "Do tell me more, Master Kenobi."

"If I may, Chancellor," said Kit Fisto. He walked around the desk. "I sense that there may be something connected to the Sith Lord in this room. You don't mind if I take a look around, do you?"

Palpatine shrugged, and then swept his arm in a wide gesture around the office. "By all means, Master Jedi."

Kit appeared to hesitate slightly at the unexpected concession, then moved closer to the desk. Now that he was focusing there, Obi-Wan too could sense that that was where the sense of wrongness was converging. Still, it seemed unlikely that Palpatine would keep incriminating evidence somewhere so obvious.

The Nautolan Master pulled open first one drawer, then another, when suddenly he froze. Whipping around to face Palpatine, he drew and ignited his lightsaber in one smooth motion. Obi-Wan was enough on edge that he grabbed his own lightsaber on pure instinct, and he heard the _snap-hiss_ of two more weapons being ignited behind him. “What is it?” he asked Kit, whose lightsaber was hovering by the neck of an impassive, unperturbed-looking Palpatine. “What did you find?”

“I found _this_.” A motion of a green hand, and an object floated up out of the drawer into Obi-Wan’s line of sight.

It was a Sith holocron. _No_ , thought Obi-Wan, dazed. _Oh no, no, no, no. Oh, Anakin. You_ didn’t _._ There was an intake of breath from Saesee Tiin, who also stepped forward to point his lightsaber at Palpatine.

“Oh, that thing?” Palpatine’s casual tone, his glint in his eye despite the multiple weapons aimed toward him, was unaccountably more sinister than anything Obi-Wan had ever encountered. “Why, that’s just a gift from a friend of mine. A trinket, nothing more.”

Kit’s lightsaber didn’t waver. “What _friend_ , Palpatine?”

“Is that any way to address your Supreme Chancellor?” Palpatine asked lightly. “And you know, I don’t think I’ll tell you which friend. You all seem rather on edge about this, and, well.” He looked directly at Obi-Wan. “I wouldn’t want to get him into any _trouble_.”

Frozen in horror, Obi-Wan could only stare back at him. Trouble didn’t even _begin_ to describe what Anakin would be in, if the truth came out.

“If you’re telling the truth,” said Kit, “and understand that we aren’t taking that as a given, then your _friend_ is probably a Sith Lord. And your refusal to tell us his name-”

“Is well within my legal rights,” Palpatine cut him off. “In fact, given that you appear ready to take violence against whoever gave me this...paperweight, I rather think I shan’t tell you. Now, if you were to subpoena me - though I highly doubt the courts would support these ridiculous accusations - I suppose I _could_ produce the security recording of him giving it to me. But at the moment, you understand I feel reluctant to cooperate with you waving those lightsabers about.” This time, he actually winked at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan wondered numbly if this was supposed to be blackmail. Leave Palpatine alone, and he wouldn’t inform on Anakin to the rest of the Council.  Push him, and he would drag Anakin down along with him. But if Palpatine didn’t go down, then the entirety of the Republic would. _Anakin, what were you thinking...?!_ He also wondered if Palpatine was telling the truth about there being security recordings - if so than it had been unnecessary for Saesee to bring his own recording device, so that they could make a tape of what they’d hoped would be Palpatine’s confession.

“He’s lying,” said Obi-Wan, wishing desperately that he had another choice, “He is the Sith Lord; there is no other ‘friend’.” The first part, at least, Obi-Wan was mostly certain was true.

He waited for Palpatine to contradict him, to explain the truth of who had given him the holocron. Instead, Palpatine simply shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you have me,” he sighed. “Master Kenobi is quite right. I _am_ the Sith Lord.”

The four lightsabers were again pointed directly at his face. It was Agen Kolar who eventually spoke. “Okay, why in the nine Corellian hells would you just _admit_ that if it were true?”

Palpatine leaned back casually and laced his fingers behind his head. “Why not? I don’t think you’ll find any laws against being a Sith. You have no evidence of me committing any actual crime, so what have I to worry about?” He flicked a finger, and the holocron levitated itself back across the desk toward him. “And I think I’ll take my little trinket back, as well.”

There was a long, disbelieving pause.

“All right, this is getting ridiculous,” Kit Fisto said. “Why don’t you just drop the act, _Sidious_?”

“Very well,” said Palpatine, and attacked. The very essence of the dark side itself for a second manifested itself as an almost tangible presence, pinning Obi-Wan momentarily where he stood. By the time he broke free of it, a blink of an eye later, Palpatine had ducked out from under their lightsabers and a bar of red plasma was protruding from the chest of a surprised-looking Saesee Tiin. 

After that, the fight was a blur. Obi-Wan leapt into action, slashing and parrying furiously, to be met with a lethal blur of red that pushed him several steps backward. He whirled to the side, blocking a thrust that would have taken his arm off, lashed out with his own blade.

His saber was swept aside. Moments later, the body of Kit Fisto crumpled to the floor.

Lightsabers slashed and whirled. The flare of energy beams clashing together lit the room. Scarlet met blue, sizzling plasma met sizzling plasma, blurs of colored lightning danced together in intricate patterns, and two Jedi and one Sith gave everything they had to utterly destroy the other. Light struggled against dark, and dark raged against light, and flares of lethal fire went up from the crash of shining energy as the three combatants attacked and defended.

The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always, always wins. Less than two minutes after the fight had begun, Agen Kolar became one with the Force.

Obi-Wan disengaged his blade. He and Palpatine circled each other, slowly, warily. Lightsaber held in a Soresu-ready, he met the dark avatar’s flick of a crimson blade with a desperate slash-parry.

It occurred to Obi-Wan, as he sunk deep into the Force and allowed it to flow through him, allowing his blue-white weapon to be guided into strikes and ripostes with no conscious intention, that if three of the greatest bladesbeings in the Order couldn’t take Palpatine down, then he probably couldn’t either.

He fought anyway. Swiftly defending Palpatine’s strikes, he was unable to get a thrust past Palpatine’s blade. He deflected one-two-three stabs, knowing Yoda himself could not fight as the shadow across from him was doing. Centered, balanced, completely aware of the fact that he was fighting an enemy with power he could never hope to match, he didn’t slow for an instant the defensive velocity that was all that kept the fan of blood-red energy at bay.

Being forced slowly backward by a devil in human form, Obi-Wan sensed that this fight was being pushed toward a single, inevitable conclusion. He knew that he would likely die very soon. Yet the thought held no anguish for him, for he knew he would die a Jedi.

Four Jedi Masters had entered the office of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, and now only one remained. Obi-Wan Kenobi couldn’t win.

He fought anyway.


	11. Decision

The first thing Anakin noticed upon entering the Chancellor's outer office was that no one else was there. He paused for a moment, taken aback; there was no reason he could think of for Palpatine to have sent away his secretary and Red Guards at this time of day.

The second thing he noticed was the sound of lightsabers clashing from the inner office, and he ran faster than he had ever done in his life. He skidded to a stop in front of the door - the noise had stopped, and for a moment he wondered if he had imagined it. Not bothering to knock, Anakin hit the door release.

The scene before him stopped his heart. In the middle of the room was Obi-Wan, lightsaber held defensively in front of him, his face tight with concentration. And facing him...facing him...Anakin blinked, in the desperate hope that the impossible image in front of him would disappear. But the sight of Palpatine with a scarlet lightsaber resolutely pointed at Obi-Wan's throat remained, and so did the bodies of three dead Jedi Masters scattered across the floor.

Numbly, it registered to Anakin that he should be feeling shocked. He wasn't. In some way, he had known, had always known, could have reached this truth himself if only he'd been willing to accept it.  _He is Sidious. The Chancellor is the Sith Lord._

The two combatants circled each other, both apparently too focused to notice him standing frozen just outside the doorway. And then simultaneously, in a blur of motion, they struck.

"No," Anakin said, as his two mentors lashed out at each other with furious blows. It came out as no more than a hoarse whisper.  _"No,"_ he repeated, this time more loudly. "No, stop it.  _Stop fighting."_

* * *

The unexpected sound of Anakin's voice caused Obi-Wan's head to jerk around, a momentary distraction that nearly cost him dearly as the Sith's lightsaber flicked towards his neck. He blocked it just inches away from his skin, focusing again on the battle and striking back with his own blade.

He and Palpatine had barely exchanged three more blows when an invisible force seized Obi-Wan and threw him away from his opponent. Nearly blacking out from the force with which his head smashed against the wall, he blinked rapidly and struggled against the strength that was holding him down as his lightsaber was yanked from his grasp. His vision cleared to reveal Anakin standing in the middle of the office, arms flung out in both directions. Across the room, he could see Palpatine similarly pinned and disarmed.

"I said  _stop_   _fighting,"_ Anakin cried. He lowered his arms, clipping both weapons to his belt, but Obi-Wan was still trapped immobile against the wall.

Palpatine appeared completely unconcerned by this turn of events. "Good morning, Anakin," he said pleasantly from his side of the room. "I was wondering when you might show up, my boy. It seems your former Master and I are having, ah, a difference in opinion."

"Anakin, he's the Sith Lord!" The look Obi-Wan received in return suggested that this was an unnecessary explanation, and really, Obi-Wan couldn't think of any other way Anakin might have interpreted the Chancellor's blood-red weapon. So why on Coruscant wasn't he doing anything? "Let me down, Anakin. We can take him together."

Anakin's fists clenched at his sides. "I'm not letting  _anybody_ go until you both promise to stop trying to  _kill_ each other," he said. Obi-Wan stared at him incredulously.

"I'm quite willing to talk reasonably about this," Sidious said. "In fact, you'll find that I only acted out of self-defense after being provoked by Master Kenobi and his companions."

 _"What,"_ said Obi-Wan as Anakin rounded on him, remembering the surprise attack that had taken out Saesee. "That is completely - that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." He wished he could understand the game Palpatine was playing.

"I assure you, Anakin, it was the Jedi who drew their weapons on  _me,_ and not the other way around." Palpatine's earnest voice held no trace of the smirk he was currently giving Obi-Wan from behind Anakin's back. "Isn't that correct, Master Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan sputtered furiously. "Well, technically,  _yes_ we did draw first, but - Anakin, he's a  _Sith Lord._ I know he's your friend, but you have to help me arrest him!" He had known that Anakin would be reluctant to act against a man he trusted — that why he'd initially been left out of this mission, after all — but surely the situation was different now that they had proof of Palpatine's guilt. Even Anakin couldn't fail to realize that personal loyalty had to fall by the wayside when the fate of the  _entire galaxy_ was at stake. Could he?

"Arrest?" Palpatine inquired cooly. "A few moments ago, you seemed more intent on assassination."

"It's hardly assassination to fight a Sith Lord," said Obi-Wan, incredulous. "And besides, you resisted arrest." The whole conversation seemed surreal to him, bizarre and impossibly civil after the harsh reality of their duel.

And for the love of the galaxy,  _why hadn't Anakin let him go yet?_ His friend was still standing stock-still in the middle of the office, head swiveling back and forth between Obi-Wan and Palpatine as they spoke.

"My philosophical beliefs are hardly legal basis for an arrest," Palpatine shot back.

" _Philosophical beliefs?!_ If that's what you call arranging a galaxy-wide war, then I'd hate to see-"

"You have no proof whatsoever that I coordinated with the Separatists, Master Kenobi, and furthermore-"

"Shut up! Both of you, just  _shut up._ " Anakin's sharp cry echoed throughout the room for several moments as Obi-Wan and Palpatine fell silent. "Chancellor," he began hesitantly, "you're...you're really the Sith Lord?"

"I was Plagueis's apprentice," came the reply.

That didn't make any sense at all to Obi-Wan, but Anakin's eyes widened. " _Oh,_ " he said, and the glimpse of the expression on his face that Obi-Wan caught before he turned more fully to face the Chancellor caused a cold pit to form at the bottom of the older man's stomach.

Obi-Wan couldn't imagine how the situation could possibly get any worse, but he managed to have a bad feeling about it anyway.

* * *

 _I was Plagueis's apprentice. I was Plagueis's apprentice._ The words repeated themselves in Anakin's head as he stared at the man who had been one of his greatest friends and supporters. A dozen conflicting emotions were vying for dominance - betrayal, at having been lied to, horror, that his trusted mentor was a Sith Lord, confusion, because Sith were evil and Palpatine couldn't be.

Hope, because this could the path to Padme's salvation that he'd been searching for.

Palpatine smiled benevolently at him. "Yes, Anakin," he said gently. "I can save your wife. Join me, and together we will have the power to conquer even death."

What? Anakin thought numbly. He had to _join_...? Fiddling nervously with the sleeve of his robe, he glanced back over his shoulder.

Obi-Wan's face was twisted in shock and disbelief. "What?!" he cried. "Give it up, Sidious. Anakin would never join the dark side, and certainly not for a lie like that. Never."

Anakin wished he could have Obi-Wan's surety, but right now, his his head was buzzing and spinning, filled with visions of Padme's death and memories of  _he could even keep the people he cared about from dying_ and  _choose what you want, whatever you want, and accept no restrictions as you take what is rightfully yours._  A week ago, when he had fought Dooku on the  _Invisible Hand_ , he remembered being so certain that anything and anyone associated with the dark side must be the embodiment of evil.

Now, he just didn't know. And even if he had been right back then, the destruction of his own soul seemed a small sacrifice to pay in exchange for Padme's life.

But Obi-Wan was looking at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to refuse Palpatine's offer. After all that he'd done and thought the past few days, it hurt Anakin's heart to know that his best friend still had that much faith in him.

He couldn't let Padme die. He couldn't let Obi-Wan down. Both options were simply unthinkable.

"Master," he pleaded, imploring Obi-Wan to understand, "I don't think he's lying. He really can do it."

Obi-Wan looked horrified. "Anakin," he said, face drained of color, "you can't be considering—he wants you to join the  _dark side_ , youcan't just-"

"He can save Padme!" Why couldn't Obi-Wan understand that this was about so much more than just one side of the Force or the other?

Obi-Wan started struggling again against Anakin's invisible hold. "He's lying. Anakin, he's  _evil._ "

Anakin shook his head desperately. Confusion warred within his mind—on the one hand, all the other Sith and dark Jedi he'd ever encountered had been cruel, sadistic, and untrustworthy. And he trusted Obi-Wan, he really did, and he  _knew_ that his former Master was thinking a lot more clearly than he was at the moment. But at the same time... "He's not evil, he's my _friend."_

For some reason, Obi-Wan looked suddenly alarmed. "Anakin, behind you!"

"You're quite right about all of this," came a voice from mere inches behind Anakin's shoulder. "I wouldn't lie to you, my boy." It seemed that unlike Obi-Wan, Palpatine was powerful enough to break free while Anakin had been distracted; perhaps he was right about the dark side being stronger...

He turned to face the Chancellor. "What do you want from me?" he asked, not that any price for Padme's life could truly be a dealbreaker.

Palpatine looked honestly surprised at the question. "What do I want? My dear boy, the only question that matters is: what do  _you_ want? I'm not demanding anything of you; I am simply  _offering_ you the best chance to prevent your wife and child's death, to have the power to end this war and bring security and justice to the galaxy."

He smiled kindly and placed a gentle hand on Anakin's shoulder, then added, "I've never forced you to do anything you didn't wish to before, and I don't intend to start now. All I am doing you is asking you, friend to friend, to look at the facts. The Jedi, frightened of your potential, attempted to restrict you from accessing vital information; I came up with a plan to get you what you wanted."

A choked noise came from where Obi-Wan was still pinned behind Anakin; Palpatine ignored him and continued speaking. "The Jedi have made multiple attempts to undermine my power as a leader and my ability to end this war, from their treacherous request that you spy on me to their illegal assassination attempt of only a few minutes ago. Have I ever done anything so unethical? The Jedi have always forced you to be ashamed of the most natural of your feelings; I have only ever encouraged you to embrace your true self."

Palpatine's voice dropped lower, and Anakin suddenly found that he couldn't look away from the hypnotic ice-blue of the older man's eyes. "What will the Jedi do when they find out about your marriage? Your child? And if they knew about your other, shall we say, unorthodox activities, both last night and three years ago on Tatoooine... _think,_ Anakin. Your time with them is ending no matter what you choose. They have never, and  _will_  never, accepted you for who you are. Join me and your marriage need not be a secret. The strength of your passions will be an asset, not something to be hidden. Not only will Padme live, but you will be able to be with her  _openly_ , and do so knowing that you have the power to keep her and your children safe."

Anakin couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. "I—I don't—I mean," he stuttered, backing several steps away from Palpatine and sitting down hard on the edge of the desk. All of the Chancellor's words sounded so  _true_ and right and obvious and he couldn't think of a single reason not to say yes  _right now_  except...he looked back over at Obi-Wan. "Master?" He could hear his voice breaking even as he said it. _Tell me you agree with him, too. Tell me you understand. Tell me I'm not going crazy._

The Jedi was glaring at Palpatine, his expression furious, and Anakin realized that any hope that his two mentors might come to an understanding or even work  _together_  to save Padme and end the war had only ever been an impossible fantasy. A naive dream.

Numbly, Anakin accepted that he was going to have to  _choose_.

* * *

Thirteen years ago, Obi-Wan Kenobi had killed a Sith Lord. He remembers his unadulterated fury as he had cut Maul in half, and he remembers the vow that he later had made to himself to never let his emotions control him like that again.

And yet, in this moment, he was ready to  _kill_ Chancellor Palpatine if he could only get the chance. With his bare hands, if necessary. When he'd first realized the truth of Sidious's identity, he'd been torn between awe and horror at the sheer amount of time and effort the man had put into manipulating the Senate to get himself into the position he was in.

Now he understood that Palpatine had been equally as devoted to manipulating Anakin. Obi-Wan's padawan had been lonely and vulnerable and  _nine_ when he'd been befriended by the most powerful man in the galaxy. Obi-Wan had never been quite comfortable with the relationship between his apprentice and the politician, but now that he knew that Palpatine had been deliberately trying to gain Anakin's trust,  _grooming_ him for this exact moment...his blood boiled at the thought.

Or perhaps it was simply easier to be angry at Palpatine than to accept that his best friend was teetering on the edge of a terrible decision. Despite Anakin's lifelong struggles with attachment, with fear and anger and, yes, even hatred, Obi-Wan had never  _truly_  thought he was in danger of being enticed by the dark side. Even last night, he'd managed to convince himself that anyone could have been pulled in by the dark aura surrounding the Sith holocrons.

It seemed he was wrong about a great many things, these days.

But no longer. If Palpatine wanted to reduce a galaxy-shaping decision down to the whim of Anakin's attachments, well, two could play at  _that_ game.

"It isn't going to be that simple," he replied to Anakin's desperate, questioning gaze. "You know the Jedi will never allow a Sith Lord to control the Republic, and Palpatine knows it too. Anakin, the entire Order is a threat that he'll have to eliminate. He'll find a way to  _kill me_ , and every other Jedi, rather than let us stir rebellion. We can find a way to help Padme once Master Yoda returns; there's no need to do anything drastic."

For a moment, Anakin just stared at him looking vaguely aghast, then buried his face in his hands and moaned something that Obi-Wan couldn't quite make out. When he finally looked up at Palpatine, his face was pale and drawn. "Is he right?" he asked quietly.

Palpatine shrugged, looking disturbingly unperturbed by Obi-Wan's attempt to turn the tables. "Why, that rather depends on the Jedi," he said. "There's no need to harm anyone if they choose to uphold their oaths of loyalty to the Republic and its leaders. But if they continue to try to act against me...well, that's treason. And I'm afraid there's only one punishment for treason in times of war."

To Obi-Wan's relief, this appeared to dismay Anakin. "W-what?" He glanced back at Obi-Wan before returning his gaze to Palpatine. "But sir, they'll never agree—Obi-Wan isn't going to support—I can't just help you  _kill—"_

Palpatine cut him off. "Not even to save Padme?" he asked, and Anakin fell silent. "And if it's Master Kenobi that's causing you to hesitate, I see no reason why he can't be spared if you wish it. I told you, this is about what  _you_  want."

At that, Anakin looked thoughtful.

" _What?"_ It was Obi-Wan's turn to be horrified. "Anakin, the Jedi are your family. Saving my life doesn't justify turning on the rest of them!"

"Padme is your family," Palpatine corrected. "All you have to do to save her is choose.  _Choose,_  Anakin."

Anakin looked down at the floor. For a long moment, he was silent. Finally, slipping off the desk back onto his feet, he looked at Obi-Wan. There were tears running down his cheeks, and the bottom dropped out of Obi-Wan's stomach.

"I'm sorry," Anakin whispered, then turned back to Palpatine. "I'll do whatever you want," he choked out. "Just...save her. Don't kill him. I'll do what you want."

"No," Obi-Wan said. A few feet from him and impossibly far away, Anakin slowly began to lower himself to his knees. "No!" he yelled. "No, no, Anakin,  _no_!"

Anakin knelt at Palpatine's feet, bowing his head in submission.

And then the door to the office slid open, and Padme Amidala walked in.


	12. Torn

It had taken Padme several minutes to collect herself after Anakin had left her apartment. And today, it had been more than the usual pang of loneliness and worry that had been going hand and hand with his departures for the past three years; the way he'd acted had made her downright uneasy.

Obi-Wan had been right. There  _was_  something going on with him; something, quite possibly, seriously wrong. Padme loved Anakin, and trusted him with her life and her heart, but…

But after Tatooine, after the Tuskens, and after the half-crazed desperation in his eyes and voice when he'd spoken of stopping his nightmares and raged against Obi-Wan, she couldn't quite rid herself of the anxiety that he might do something truly  _stupid._ She didn't know what, wasn't sure what exactly could top breaking into a Sith holocron vault in terms of half-baked schemes, but she'd learned never to underestimate her husband's capability to take things to extremes.

Finally, it had been the memory of something else Anakin had said that allowed her to bury her fretting. Grievous was dead; the war would be over soon. And almost as important as the imminent cessation of military hostilities: Palpatine would have to step down.

And, as she stepped into her speeder and pulled into the lane of air traffic heading in the direction of the Senate building, she decided that she was going to make absolute sure that he understood that.

Though she was prepared to do what was necessary, to join with the Jedi and rise up against the Chancellor if it ever came to that, she still clung to the admittedly optimistic hope that there could be a relatively peaceful change in power. Palpatine was an old mentor of hers; perhaps, as someone from his own home planet, she could convince him to step down without a fight. If it came down to more... _aggressive_  negotiations, she was willing to tell him flat out that any further power grab would be resisted. Viciously.

She was prepared to meet resistance. The Chancellor's strong will and razor-sharp tongue could be brutal weapons against those who dared oppose him, but Padme Amidala had never backed down from a fight when her people—the people of Naboo, or of the galaxy—were at stake and she didn't intend to start now.

What she was  _not_ prepared for, as she approached the Chancellor's office, was the sound of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi desperately calling her husband's name.

And nor, when she'd sprinted to the office and flung open the door, was she prepared for the sight of Anakin  _kneeling_  before Palpatine—Anakin, who hated any and all forms of submission. His head was bowed low; his face stained with tears. For a moment, all she could do was stare in bewilderment and disbelief.

Padme had no idea what was going on, but she was absolutely determined to find out.

* * *

 

Obi-Wan was not, in general, fond of politicians, but he had never been more grateful for anything in his life than for the sound of Padme Amidala's confused voice as she stepped into the room and asked, "Anakin?"

Anakin whipped around to face her so fast that he overbalanced, falling backwards onto his hands. "P-Padme?" he stuttered. "What are—what are you  _doing_  here?"

"What am  _I_ doing here? What are  _you—_ " Padme cut off abruptly, catching sight of Obi-Wan pinned against the wall for apparently the first time. "What in the galaxy is going on?"

Obi-Wan cut in quickly, before either of the other two could spin the situation to her. "Palpatine is the Sith Lord," he called. "He's convinced Anakin that he can use the dark side to save you."

" _What?!_ " Padme spin to face Anakin, looking horrified. "Is that  _true_?"

Anakin's eyes widened, and as he managed to stammer out "I—I mean—Padme, he can do it; he can save you," Obi-Wan felt the Force-tendrils holding him down begin to weaken with Anakin's diverted focus.

Padme went white. "But he's a Sith Lord? He'd be using the  _dark side?_  Anakin, how could you think-"

"He'll teach me to save your  _life,_  Padme. How could that be wrong? And then we'll be a family, a real one out in the open with no one to stop us, you and me and the baby." Padme was shaking her head before Anakin had even finished. Neither she nor Anakin seemed to notice Obi-Wan finally breaking free from the wall.

He hesitated. Attacking Palpatine, tempting a prospect as it might be, would be worse than useless if Anakin decided to leap to the Sith's defense. The very last thing he wanted was to validate Palpatine's accusations of the Jedi as assassins in his former Padawan's mind, and he didn't dare do something to disrupt the balance—precarious as it might be—that Padme had brought to the room with her arrival. Anakin had made it abundantly clear which way he was leaning, which way he would fall if the situation came down to it.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Padme said. "Anakin, I  _told_  you it will be fine. We don't need Palpatine, all right?"

"You can't know that-"

"No." Padme crossed her arms. "But I would rather die than pay the price for the help of a Sith." For a moment, her reply echoed in the silence of the room.

Anakin went white. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and glanced desperately up at the Sith Lord standing a few feet away.

Palpatine took the cue smoothly. "You may be willing to die, Senator Amidala," he said. "But are you truly willing to sacrifice the life of your child?"

At that, Obi-Wan could see Padme pause. "I—I still don't believe that your powers are the only things that can prevent Anakin's visions," she replied hesitantly. Then, more firmly: "No. It's not worth it, anyway. If you're going to do to my child what you're trying to do to Anakin... _No._ " She took a step into the room, towards Anakin.

Palpatine placed himself in between the two, folding his arms. Though he was unarmed-if one with the Force could ever be truly considered unarmed-there was a tightness in his body language, a sense of barely constrained power, that conveyed a threat as clearly as any spoken word. Obi-Wan moved forward, ready to intervene.

Jerking her chin up, Padme glared fiercely at Palpatine, and then marched straight past him. The Sith didn't stop her; it seemed that he had come to the same conclusion as Obi-Wan had, and wasn't going to do anything that might provoke Anakin's ire.

But then again, Palpatine had come this far by using words far more effective than any physical weapon. "I don't think the decision is entirely up to you, Senator," he said, though the direction of his gaze made it clear it was Anakin that he was truly speaking to. "Anakin should be able to choose to utilize my teachings if he wishes."

Anakin nodded. "You'll see, Padme," he promised, rising to his feet, and Obi-Wan could hear the renewed certainty in his voice. "I'll become powerful enough to save you. You might not like the idea now, but you'll  _see,_  once you and the baby are safe and the three of us can be together."

Shaking her head, Padme cupped a hand under his chin. "No," she said, quietly, sadly. "The three of us won't be able to be together."

"I don't understand. You and the baby will both be able to live." Anakin's confusion was so  _genuine_ , it hurt Obi-Wan's heart. He slipped closer to the pair, keeping a wary eye on Palpatine as he did.

Padme's back straightened, and Obi-Wan could see her taking a deep breath before she met Anakin's eyes. "I'll leave you," she told him. "If you join the dark side, I will  _leave_  you, Anakin. The only way for us to be together is if you refuse him."

Anakin's eyes widened, and he took several steps back. "I—I don't understand," he repeated, but this time there was an edge of panic in his voice. "I thought—I thought you—you  _love_  me, I thought—"

Padme's voice cut across the frantic jumble of words. "I do love you, Anakin. That's why I'm saying this."

"I don't understand," he growled. "If you really love me, you won't leave."

Obi-Wan tensed at the edge of anger that was beginning to creep into Anakin's tone. "Does it matter?" he asked. "We'll find a way to help her without Palpatine, and she won't have to—"

" _You stay out of this!_ " Anakin cried. He whirled to face Obi-Wan, eyes wild. "You know nothing, nothing about how I feel, and  _nothing_  about how to save her."

Alarmed at the abruptness of Anakin's rage, Obi-Wan raised his hands placatingly. "I only meant-" he began, but was cut off once again, and this time not by Anakin.

"He only meant," interjected Palpatine coolly, "to stop you from gaining any power that the Jedi would not be able to control, regardless of how effective it might be."

"That's not true," Obi-Wan said. "I am  _trying_  to help you, Anakin."

At that, Anakin actually laughed, a high-pitched, shaky noise with a note of hysteria that sent shivers down Obi-Wan's spine. "There is no try, Obi-Wan," he said. "You don't  _know_ how to help Padme, and Palpatine does. But you're trying to turn me against him, and you—you've turned  _her_  against  _me_ , by talking to her behind my back, by making me seem like the bad guy for trying to  _help_  her."

"I wasn't trying to turn her against you; all I did was tell her the facts of what happened-"

"You're still trying to hold me back from the one thing that could save her! You've  _always_ tried to tell me what I can and can't do, and-"

"That's enough," Padme cut in. "Anakin, why do you think that Palpatine is the only one who can save me?"

Anakin blinked. "Well, we didn't find anything in the Jedi archives. And Master Windu said that the healers might not be able to do anything since we don't know why you'd die even with good medical facilities, and  _Yoda_ just told me to let go of my fear instead of anything helpful."

Padme crossed her arms. "If we don't know what's going to kill me, then why are you so sure that Palpatine will be able to help?"

"Because he told me he could. His master, Plagueis,  _he_ knew how to stop people from dying." Anakin paused for a moment, hesitant. "And...I listened to a holocron from the Sith vault. Padme, so much of it made  _sense._  Why can't you just trust me?"

Padme looked about as horrified as Obi-Wan felt at that revelation. "You actually listened to one? Anakin!" She closed her eyes briefly and took a visible deep breath. "Okay, but do you have any actual evidence  _other_  than Palpatine's word that he can do what he says?"

"Well…" Anakin trailed off, then turned to face Palpatine. "Chancellor, explain to her how you're going to do it."

The Sith Lord looked, to Obi-Wan's eye, ever so slightly uncomfortable. "My boy, surely you must understand that I can't just reveal the secrets of the Sith Order in front of outsiders."

"Or perhaps he can't reveal them because he doesn't know them," suggested Obi-Wan. "He has no reason to help Padme; Anakin, he's just trying to manipulate you."

"That's not true! Chancellor,  _tell_ them how you'll stop her from dying," Anakin pleaded. Palpatine hesitated. Only for a moment, but it was enough. "You—you do know how to save her, right?"

"Of course," Palpatine said quickly. "I merely meant that I may need your assistance on working out a few of the specifics."

Anakin folded his arms, staring at him, displeasure abruptly redirecting to a new recipient. "You don't know already? I thought your Master taught you everything!"

"A minor obstacle," responded Palpatine carefully. "Plagueis  _did_  discover the secret to preserving life, Anakin, and while he, ah, passed away before passing on some of the technicalities, I have no doubt that with your strength the two of us will be able to achieve the same power."

"Passed away? Didn't you kill him?" Anakin stepped closer. "You said you knew how to save her. You  _lied_  to me!"

Visibly alarmed, Palpatine backed up several steps. "Anakin, have I ever been anything but honest with you? I assure you, our combined power will be more than enough to save your wife."

"He wasn't honest with you about being a Sith Lord," Padme commented. "Don't you think that someone who deceived you about something as big as that for more than ten years might be lying about something else?"

"I had no choice," protested the Sith. "The Jedi would have killed me first and asked questions later, if they had found out. Anakin, we  _will_  be able to save Padme. I promise you."

Once again, Obi-Wan could see Anakin wavering, the conviction in Palpatine's words pulling him back in.  _No._ He was well aware that Anakin's aggression against Palpatine had been more a product of his mercurial temper, made particularly volatile by the current situation, than any real rejection of the dark side; still, he wasn't going to let the opportunity pass without trying at least one more time.

"He may well be lying about his  _willingness_  to help Padme," Obi-Wan said. "She is a rather vocal political opponent of his, after all." He was well aware that Anakin's current aggression against Palpatine was more a product of his mercurial temper, made particularly volatile by the current situation, than any real rejection of the dark side; still, he wasn't going to let the opportunity pass.

"Master Kenobi is attempting to  _manipulate_  you, Anakin," snarled Palpatine. "See how he tries to hold you back? I have nothing but the highest regard for Senator Amidala, and I won't let any harm come to her."

"Really,  _Sidious?_ " Obi-Wan asked. "Yet your former apprentice sent bounty hunters to assassinate her three years ago, did you truly have no hand in that?" Palpatine's face grew dark, but Obi-Wan pushed on recklessly. "You wanted her to die in order to further your plans then, and you want the same thing now. I rather think— _aaah!_ " He was unable to finish his sentence, crying out instead in pain as his body was suddenly engulfed in blue lightning. The bolts of electricity arcing from Palpatine's fingertips hurled him backwards onto the floor, and he writhed in agony as someone—Padme?—screamed his name in the background.

 _Snap-hiss._ The electricity stopped, and Obi-Wan was left with the view of Anakin holding his lightsaber at Palpatine's throat.

" _Do it_ , Anakin," Padme cried, and part of Obi-Wan thought that it shouldn't be this way; Anakin shouldn't be fulfilling his destiny while anger and darkness swirled around him in the Force, but he couldn't find the strength to even lift his head.

"Be warned," said Palpatine. "Strike me down, and you shall all come to regret it. A Sith's legacy doesn't end with his death."

Anakin—as always, as usual—did not listen. A few seconds later, the body crumpled to the ground.

It was over.

Wasn't it?

The oppressive darkness that had grown to cloud the Force over the past decade had lightened, but there was still a thread of danger tugging at the back of Obi-Wan's mind, vague yet persistent. Mind still hazy from the lightning, he couldn't focus enough to follow it to its source.

He turned instead to the more immediate issue: Anakin, still standing over Palpatine's body, breathing heavily, the Force roiling around him in dark currents. Had his destruction of the man been accompanied by a rejection of his teachings? It was impossible to say.

His whole body ached. By the time he had slowly made his way to his feet, Anakin had sunk to his knees, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Padme hurried over to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders while Obi-Wan made his way somewhat more cautiously towards the pair.

Anakin glanced up at him, then quickly looked away. "You all right?" he muttered. "That lightning can hurt pretty bad."

Obi-Wan didn't have time to come up with a response to the glaringly obvious attempt at distraction from Anakin's own actions before being interrupted by the chime of his comlink. It took him a moment to react-during the events of the past hour, he'd almost forgotten that there was a world outside this room and the four-now three-people who were in it.

"Kenobi, here" he said, voice perhaps not quite as steady as it usually was.

" _Obi-Wan,"_  replied Mace Windu, who was looking uncharacteristically cheerful.  _"I was landing at the Temple when I sensed a great shift in the Force_ ,  _just now. Am I to take it that the Sith Lord is destroyed?"_  
"Oh," said Obi-Wan. "Er. Yes. It was Palpatine. He's dead, now."  
" _That's excellent news."_

"I suppose." Obi-Wan found himself unable to summon much enthusiasm, a fact which was apparently evident to the other Master.

The smile dropped off of Mace's face.  _"Obi-Wan? Is something wrong?"_

Obi-Wan's eyes moved almost of their own accord to Anakin. Yes, something was wrong. Very wrong, and he wasn't entirely sure it had been set right. "The others who came with me to confront Palpatine are dead," he said aloud. "It was Anakin that killed him." In front of him, Anakin twitched slightly at the words, then tightened his clinging hold on Padme. His rage, at least, seemed to have drained out of him.

" _I see."_ Mace's expression was grim, though he didn't look surprised at the news of the deaths.  _"Return to the Temple. You can fill me in on the full story then, and we'll have to start figuring out a way to explain this to the public."_

The public was, at the moment, rather the least of Obi-Wan's problems. "Right. Kenobi out." He shut off his comlink, then turned back to Anakin and Padme.

"I'm coming with you back to the Temple," Padme announced.

"Good idea," said Anakin, brightening. "You can get the healers to take a look at you, make sure you're all right."

Padme exchanged a long glance with Obi-Wan over the top of Anakin's head. "And the Jedi can use me as a witness when they make the announcement," she added, then took a deep breath. " _And_ you'll have to explain our relationship to the Council when you tell them what happened tonight, and I plan on being there."

Obi-Wan was relieved that she seemed to understand the need to tell the Council what Anakin had almost done—at this point, the situation was definitely beyond Obi-Wan's capability to handle alone. Nor did he think the idea of splitting her and Anakin up was a good one, with Anakin's mental state likely still precarious.

Anakin nodded slowly. He stood up, still clutching Padme's hands in his own. "Fine. Let's go...let's go tell them, then."

Walking over to the body of Saesee Tiin, Obi-Wan knelt and retrieved the recording device that the other Jedi had been carrying.  _May you find peace in the Force, my friend,_ he thought, and then, looking too at Kit Fisto and Agen Kolar,  _may you all find peace._

His gaze fell on the fourth corpse, the one responsible not just for the first three but for so many thousands more across the galaxy. An unexplainable shiver ran down his back; the nagging feeling of dread returned.

Shaking his head to clear it, Obi-Wan followed Anakin and Padme out the door without looking back.


	13. Revenge of the Sith

Mace Windu wasn't sure exactly what he had expected to hear about how Palpatine had been defeated, but it certainly hadn't been... _this._  His first clue that the victory had been a complicated one had come with the unexpected appearance of Senator Amidala along with the two Jedi; his unease had deepened with Obi-Wan's grim expression and Skywalker's uncharacteristic silence.

Now, he knew why they were acting that way, and he almost wished he didn't. Anakin Skywalker, the most powerful Jedi alive—quite possibly of all time—had nearly fallen to the dark side. And Mace wasn't so naive as to think that the young man was out of danger, wasn't  _dangerous,_ simply because his corrupter had been removed. For all that he'd been worried by the boy's lack of control in the past, the fact that he'd come so close to turning completely had come as a shock.

Not to mention that Skywalker was, apparently,  _married._ Married! And with a child on the way, to boot. The prospect of more little Skywalkers running around the galaxy was almost as horrifying as Anakin's near-fall.

If only Yoda were here, to advise him on how to respond. Skywalker's actions had crossed the line from disobedient and occasionally disrespectful into outright dangerous to those around him and in violation of the Jedi's most sacred tenets, yet to push him out of the Order could make him more dangerous still. It was a precarious situation, made even more so by the fact it might become necessary to reveal Anakin's temptation to the entire galaxy if it became necessary to play the recording of the afternoon's events in front of the Senate in order to prove Palpatine's guilt. Public opinion had been against the Jedi as late, and the killing of the Chancellor could so easily be perceived as an assassination attempt or power grab...

In fact, announcing Palpatine's crimes and explaining his demise was possibly the most urgent issue he ought to address. The Chancellor had been beloved by many, and news of his death could create a panic if the facts of the story weren't set straight from the start.

He sighed, and turned away from the window of the Council chamber to face the other three. "Skywalker. Your actions today will not go unaddressed; nor will your other violations of the Code. Rest assured that once this crisis is over and the Council has the chance to convene, there will be a  _serious_  discussion of your capability to remain a Jedi." He was struck with a sudden sense of deja vu, of saying something similar to Anakin after his break-in in the holocron archives. Though that was mere days ago, it was now almost laughable how serious he had considered the offence.

"I understand, Master Windu," said Skywalker. His face was drawn, and he was standing pressed close to Amidala—his  _wife,_  dear Force—with his hands clasped in hers.

"I must call the Senate into session immediately," Mace continued. "Obi-Wan…"

"I'll keep an eye on things here." Apparently understanding Mace's intent, Obi-Wan glanced over at his former apprentice.

"Good."  _Don't let him do anything else too stupid._

"Master Windu." It was Senator Amidala who spoke next, stepping forward to address him. "I ought to come with you to make the announcement. This is going to be hard enough for people to believe as it is, and what you have to say will seem more credible if you have a non-Jedi source backing you up."

What she said mirrored his own thoughts fairly closely, though he was slightly surprised that she was willing to leave her husband after the day's occurrences. He nodded briskly at her and began striding over to the door. She followed, though not, he noticed, before pressing a quick kiss to her husband's cheek. Skywalker watched her leave with an inordinately desolate expression etched across his face.

Pretending not to notice, Mace set off for the Senate building with Senator Amidala by his side.

* * *

The door to the Council chamber swished shut, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan alone. There was a very long silence. Minutes passed, and Obi-Wan couldn't find the words to speak. It wasn't that he didn't have anything to say; quite the contrary, but he just didn't have any idea where to start. He had also, he realized, been subconsciously counting on having Padme with him for this conversation.

Anakin had made the decision to turn. To  _fall._  He had been interrupted before going through with it, but it was the choice that was ultimately important, and Anakin had made the wrong one. How could he possibly even begin to respond to that?

Still, he had to start somewhere. Crossing his arms, he walked over to where Anakin had collapsed into a chair.

"I'm sorry, Master," Anakin said without looking up at him.

Obi-Wan wished that those words could be enough, but no vague apology could convince him of a true change of heart. "Sorry about what, precisely?" he inquired.

Anakin appeared taken aback by the question. "Uh. For disappointing you," he offered hesitantly. "For almost betraying you and rejecting your teachings, for not telling you what I was going through until it got out of hand. For taking advantage of your trust to steal the Sith holocron in the first place."

Obi-Wan stared at him incredulously. "That's all very well and good, Anakin, but I seem to remember you agreeing to  _help Palpatine destroy the Jedi Order_ in exchange for Padme's life? Do you not feel guilty about that?"

"Oh!" Anakin said, rubbing the nape of his neck. "Um. That. Right. I'm sorry for that, too." Obi-Wan sighed—it hadn't sounded particularly convincing—and Anakin looked distressed. "Look," he continued, jumping up from the seat and beginning to pace around the room, "it's not that I  _wanted_  to destroy the Jedi or anything, it just...wasn't a dealbreaker, once he'd promised to spare you..." Anakin trailed off, much to Obi-Wan's gratitude, apparently realizing that he was just digging himself deeper.

Obi-Wan grabbed his arm and yanked him around until they were face to face. "My life is  _no_ compensation for the number of people that would have been killed! And you shouldn't have been making the deal in the first place, you shouldn't have agreed to turn to the dark side. Stars above, Anakin,  _what were you thinking?!_ "

"I don't know!" Anakin cried. He pulled away, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I don't  _know_ , okay," he repeated miserably. "It just...it seemed like a good idea at the time, and I—"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time?" Obi-Wan parroted, voice rising an octave higher than usual in disbelief. "You were going to betray us all and destroy everything we've fought to preserve because it _seemed like a good idea at the time?_ Anakin!"

"I know," Anakin said. "It was stupid, Master. I see that now, and I  _am_ sorry I've hurt you."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and released it, giving his anger up to the Force. When he spoke, his voice was calm. "I believe you, Anakin, but this isn't about me. This is about  _you_ , and what you chose."

Anakin turned away. "It didn't feel like a choice. I've got to save her, and that just...seemed like the only way."

"Of course you had a choice," Obi-Wan snapped. "There is  _always_  a choice. And I don't see how you could fail to realize you had options other than deciding to serve a man you know to be evil."

Anakin glared at him, hurt. "I didn't know that," he said. "The Chancellor has— _had_ —always been a really good friend to me. I've known him for more than ten years, and he was always supportive of everything I did. I could talk to him about  _anything_ , anytime, and he never judged."

"He was manipulating you, Anakin," said Obi-Wan quietly. "You must know that. He only ever pretended to be your friend because he knew your power and thought he could use your relationship to control you. None of it was  _real_." Personal loyalty had always been a weakness of Anakin's; Palpatine had, perhaps, seen that even more clearly than Obi-Wan had.

Anakin lowered himself into a chair. "I wish it had been." His voice was hoarse. "Even now. I still want to believe he...I don't know, cared for me. He was always so kind and sympathetic and willing to listen to me and I  _trusted_  him, Obi-Wan. The whole time, he was a Sith Lord and I never suspected a thing, and I told him everything." He wrapped his arms around himself, staring at the floor.

Obi-Wan walked around and knelt in front of the chair. "I know," he said gently. "I know you trusted him. That, at least, is not your fault. Palpatine took advantage of your youth when you first arrived on Coruscant to gain your confidences; he played a very long game in manipulating you with his friendship." Reaching out to lay a hand on Anakin's shoulder, Obi-Wan looked his friend in the eye. "But trust is not the be-all-end-all of morality. Even if Palpatine  _had_ really just wanted to help you, it would still have been wrong to accept his offer."

Anakin nodded jerkily. "Okay. I mean, I know." He smiled weakly. "No more listening to Sith Lords."

The corners of Obi-Wan's mouth twitched upward. "Good policy," he agreed, knowing that it would be more complicated than that to keep Anakin in the light, but also relieved that his friend's spirits seemed to be returning.

The moment was interrupted by the beeping of his comlink. Obi-Wan frowned on it-it was displaying Mace Windu's frequency, but surely the Senate address couldn't be over  _that_ quickly. He had assumed the Korun Master would be there all night answering questions. He raised the device to his mouth and got as far as "Kenobi he—"

"Obi-Wan," Mace interrupted him hurriedly, "we've got a problem."

* * *

_Earlier:_

Mace Windu strode swiftly through the halls of the Senate building, mere steps behind Padme Amidala as they headed in the direction of the Grand Convocation Chamber. They were surrounded by streams of other Senators responding to the emergency summons, though judging by the confused tone of the conversations around them, none knew the reason behind it.

Good. Being the ones to announce Palpatine's death would allow them to get the story straight in the public mind.

"You need to remember to focus on Palpatine's involvement with the Separatists when you make accusations against him," Amidala said quietly in his ear. "The word  _Sith_ isn't going to mean much, but everybody understands political treachery."

"I think you ought to speak first, actually," he told Amidala. "These people are going to be shocked enough as it is; it may make it easier to hear it from one of their own. I am not unaware that opinion of the Jedi has been declining of late."

Amidala nodded, and they entered an even more crowded area, packed not only with Senators but with members of the Senate Guard and clones, whose numbers had been increased on Coruscant in the name of security after Grievous's attack.

Had that really only been a few days ago? It felt like much, much longer. It was an irony not at all humorous that they had put so much energy into rescuing the then-Supreme Chancellor from the clutches of the Separatists.

They arrived at their destination, and he followed Senator Amidala into her repulsorpod. Or, he wondered vaguely as the pod rose into the air, was it Senator Skywalker? Hardly the most pressing matter.

The room quieted, and Mace was aware of the curious looks being sent at him. For a Jedi to address the Senate was somewhat unusual, but for one to stand with any particular Senator was almost unheard of.

"My fellow Senators," Amidala's voice carried clearly thoughout the room. "I have an urgent piece of news to share with you. Chancellor Palpatine is dead-"

If she said anything more, not even Mace could hear it, for the chamber exploded into shouts of disbelief and horror.

"Palpatine is  _dead_ ," Amidala repeated loudly as the initial clamor died down. "But I'm afraid that's not the bad news. I have seen incontrovertible evidence that the Supreme Chancellor was collaborating with the Separatists, and had been since before the war began."

This time, there was a distinct note of anger mixed with the disbelief in the yelling being directed at them.

"It's true!" The Senator was practically yelling herself to be heard over the din. "I was in Palpatine's office; I heard him confess. He was directly involved with Count Dooku, and planned to use this war for his own political gains."

Something in the Force nagged at Mace's attention. He glanced around, but around this many people in such tumultuous emotional states, it was impossible to say where it was coming from.

Amidala continued, "Palpatine was given the chance to stand trial for his treason, but was killed in a fight with the Jedi when he resisted arrest. He was responsible for the deaths of three Jedi Masters in the process, and-"

This time, Amidala was cut off by Mace himself when he tackled her to the ground without quite knowing the reason. A barrage of blaster bolts soared over their heads. "Stay down," he hissed to her, then ignited his lightsaber and leapt to his feet. An assassination attempt?  _Now_? Could this be the reason for her death in Skywalker's visions?

But the blasterfire seemed to be directed at him, not any of the screaming politicians currently throwing the room into pandemonium. He leapt down from the repulsorpod, deflecting bolts back towards their sources.

Back towards...a group of clones, the ones he had seen earlier.

 _What the hell?_ He had an extremely bad feeling about this.

He landed on the Senate floor, Force-shoved a group of Senators who had run straight into the line of fire in their haste to get to the door out of the way, and barked "Stand down, troops." The clones didn't obey, continuing to target him as he made his way toward them.

The Senate Guard had begun returning fire against the renegade clones, though with this many panicking people around to be caught in the crossfire, he almost wished they hadn't. Slightly more helpful was Senator Amidala, who had produced a small blaster and was firing from her repulsorpod—the high vantage point was giving her a clear line of fire to the clones, and he saw more than one fall to her shooting.

He pressed forward, repelling shots back at the clones who had fired them when possible and straight up to the ceiling when the line of fire was blocked. By the time he reached them, many of the clones had fallen and the small contingent was reduced to only three.

They kept firing as he approached, but it was futile. He cut one down with his lightsaber, and another fell to his own blaster bolt after it was deflected by Mace's lightsaber.

The third, he took alive. Yanking the clone's blaster out of his hand with the Force, he shoved the man into the wall of the chamber. "What the  _hell_  do you think you're doing, soldier?" he demanded.

"Sorry, sir," the clone gasped. "Just following orders."

Mace tightened his grip. "I'm the second-in-command of the Jedi Order. You're supposed to be following  _my_ orders. Who told you to do this?"

"It's—it was one of the first commands the Supreme Chancellor gave us, sir. If the he were ever to die at the hands of a Jedi, all troops must execute Order Sixty-Six."

"Order Sixty-Six?" questioned Mace. "One of the Contingency Orders, then? I don't recall what it says."

"All Jedi are to be considered traitors to the Republic and executed on sight," the clone explained.

Mace let go of him and took a step backward, horrified. "And you say that  _all_  of the clones have been ordered to do this? So when word of Palpatine's death gets out to the troops in the field…" Hundreds of Jedi were spread out thin across the galaxy, most of them alone or with a single other partner,  _surrounded_  by battalions of clones who they trusted to follow orders.

If the clones turned on them, they'd never see it coming.

Mace pushed the clone back to the wall. "Can the order be countermanded?"

"No. There's no mechanism to rescind it once it's been given. You can't stop it, sir," the clone in front of him said. "I've already sent one of my men back to base to start sending the order out. In fact, I-" without warning, he broke off and lunged towards Mace.

The struggle didn't last long. Unarmed, the clone had never stood a chance, and after mere moments he crumpled to the floor.

Mace wasted no time in disengaging his lightsaber and whipping out his comlink. If the clone had been telling the truth-and the Force was suggesting to him that he had-there was no time to spare. The future of the entire Jedi Order was at stake.

" _Kenobi he _—__ "

"Obi-Wan, we've got a problem," Mace interrupted. "The clones are traitors. They were programmed by Sidious to kill Jedi in the event of his death, and they've already made an attempt against me. You need to get to the communications center, start warning our people in the field."

" _They—what?!_ "

Mace could understand his shock, but there was no time to delay. "You need to start warning people, now," he repeated.

" _Uh, Masters,_ " came the voice of Anakin Skywalker from somewhere out of the comlink's range of sight. " _Clone headquarters really isn't that far from the Temple. If they're going to attack us, I'd say we have fifteen minutes tops._ "

 _Fierfek._ And with so many Jedi in the field, the Temple would be an easy target. "I'll be over as soon as I can," Mace told them. "Defend the Temple and get the word out to the others."

" _Understood,_ " Obi-Wan said gravely.

"May the Force be with you."  _And with us all._


	14. Sixty-Six

For a moment after Windu ended the transmission, Anakin and Obi-Wan stood frozen in horror, staring at each other, earlier conversation forgotten. Then, in unison, they turned and raced out the door.

Obi-Wan remembered Sidious' warning.  _A Sith's legacy doesn't end with his death_ , indeed. "Go raise the alarm," he ordered Anakin. "I'll get the word out to Jedi on the front lines." If it wasn't already too late.

He parted ways with Anakin, trusting him to organize the Temple's defenses, and sprinted in the direction of the communications center deep in the bowels of the Temple. It seemed to take him an age to get there, and he was acutely conscious that every second that slipped by as he ran could spell death for another Jedi in the field.  _Tick-tock, tick-tock_. Would the Force warn them, or would the betrayal catch them completely unaware?

He skidded to a halt in front of the communications center. The Padawan on duty—only one, they were spread so thin these days—looked up in surprise as he rushed in. "Master Kenobi, do you need an-" His question was cut off by the sudden wailing of the Temple emergency klaxon.  _Anakin_.

"The Jedi are under attack from the clones," he explained quickly. "You and I need to warn as many people as possible."

The boy's eyes widened. "I—I have a list of all the Jedi on missions and where they are. Um," he scrambled around the desk. "Here."

Obi-Wan sat down at the station next to him. "We're not going to be able to reach them all in time," said. "Tell everyone you contact to spread the word to others in their area; it's the only way to get the warning out fast enough." The boy nodded.

They got to work. There was no time for long explanations to the people they contacted—just a quick warning of what was about to happen and a command to contact others.

Obi-Wan could only hope that it would be enough.

* * *

Defending the Temple would be easier, Anakin decided, if they actually had anybody to defend it with. Everybody had heard the emergency klaxon and—presumably because Windu hadn't had the chance to tell them what Anakin had just almost done—trusted him enough to take the warning seriously. But practically every uninjured Knight and Master was systems away from Coruscant, fighting, and three of the remaining Masters had just met their ends at the hands of Chancellor Palpatine. Most of those who were left were too young, or too old, or too injured to fight. Many of the rest had stayed behind precisely because they  _weren't_  fighters—archivists like Master Nu, and teachers, and healers.

Shaak Ti had remained, and was now using the minutes that were left to organize the evacuation of the most vulnerable members of the Temple. The younglings and younger Padawans, and the most disabled of the patient population of the Halls of Healing, would be flown out by Ali-Alann as soon as they could be sure that ships leaving wouldn't be shot out of the sky. Cin Drallig had remained, and was consolidating some of the older Padawans and Knights into a second line of defense within the walls of the Temple. Other Jedi were guarding some of the most precious or vulnerable parts of the Temple—the Archives, the communications room, the security center. Jocasta Nu was still defending her post. Somewhere in the depths of the ancient building, Obi-Wan was warning others.

But they had so little warning, and it had taken much of their precious time just to gather enough people together to let them know what was going on. The rogue troops would arrive long before the preparations were ready.

So then there was him. Anakin stood at the top of the steps leading up to the Temple, flanked by Gate Master Jurokk and about a dozen other Jedi. Their job was to hold off the clones from entering the Temple long enough for everyone else to be either evacuated or organized properly into defensive positions. Though important to the survival of the rest of the Temple, it was also, quite likely, a suicide mission, and all of them knew it. The clones were going to outnumber them hundreds to one, and even Jedi had limits to the number of blaster bolts they could deflect at once. As had been proven at Geonosis, and at dozens of planets since.

Anakin had appointed himself for the job.

He could use a fight with clearly delineated lines between good guys and bad guys right about now.

When the clones came, they came in force. Rows and rows of them, marching in tightly disciplined formation up the steps towards the Temple. With a snap-hiss, Anakin ignited his lightsaber, and heard the Jedi around him do the same.

They were from the 501st, he realized with a shock of recognition.  _His_  501st,  _his_ men whom he had commanded and fought with and trusted. Was Rex among them?

The betrayal cut him to the core.

Shaking it off, Anakin smiled with a predatory anticipation he knew he probably shouldn't be feeling. This wasn't going to be easy, but at least it was straightforward: kill, and don't let yourself be killed.

And then the clones opened fire, and all thought was driven from Anakin's head as the Force around him turned hot and scarlet. He leapt forward into the fray and sunk into the fire of battle.

He might not, in the end, turn out to be powerful enough to save Padmé. But he was powerful enough for  _this._

* * *

Two messages were sent throughout the galaxy. Both originated on Coruscant. Both spread quickly, passing from one person to the next, and from that person to the people around them, perpetuating new wave fronts at each new location.

The wave fronts passed each other by. In some places, one message—an order—arrived first and an execution was carried out with no hesitation.

In others, the second message arrived first. A warning. Sometimes it came in enough time that its recipient had time to excuse themselves out of the presence of their soon-to-be-disloyal comrades before the chase began; sometimes the warning came only a few seconds before the order and bestowed only enough warning to put the recipient on their guard. Only enough for a fighting chance.

Sometimes, the second message was enough to save a life. Sometimes, it came too late and was issued only to the ears of the already dead.

Across the galaxy, Jedi fell. And Jedi fought. And Jedi ran.

In the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, Obi-Wan Kenobi became aware of the sound of screaming and blasterfire and running footsteps. He quickened the pace of his work, knowing that the invaders would soon be upon him. But he and his companion were nearing the bottom of their list, and more and more often they were reaching Jedi who had already been warned by others.

Or, far, far too often, not being able to reach them, when the Jedi in question had suddenly and harshly gained unification with the Force.

* * *

The first engagement was a massacre on both sides. The first rows of clones fell to their own deflected blaster shots, but more and more kept coming to replace the ones who fell until the front lines reached the group of Jedi.

Chaos. Destruction. Death. Waves of blasterfire were met by blades of pure energy and deflected back into a throng of clones so thick that it would be impossible to miss hitting somebody, but for every clone that was hit, ten more took their place. Anakin stabbed and sliced and deflected nonstop, cutting down one enemy after another with no time to pause.

It was a lot like cutting down droids, really, except that instead of the sparking of sliced circuitry, his slashes left behind the smell of burning flesh. He couldn't quite feel bad about it, about killing traitors who had been so loyal right up until the moment they weren't. He had fought and ate and flown with some of these men, and now they were trying to kill him with no hesitation.

The thought that it was probably real hypocritical for him to be angry about someone else's betrayal after his own actions that evening only made him lash out with even more fury. He wasn't like these traitors. He  _wasn't_. He would  _never_  have done something like this.

And if he'd been ready to do  _anything_  to save Padmé's life, just a few hours ago…well, that was different.

In the confusion of the melee, it was impossible to keep track of his fellow Jedi. The sea of clones pushed him backward, and he found himself being forced towards the door, nearly tripping backwards over the body of a Jedi.  _Master Jurokk._

The clones were surging forward, pushing around the remaining Jedi to get to the Temple. "Fall back to the door!" Anakin ordered, and the seven survivors of the altercation pulled together to form a barrier in front of the entrance.

He had no idea how long their stand lasted; it seemed simultaneously to be an instant and an eternity. The pent-up emotional pressure that had been building in him in the days since his first vision about Padmé, or maybe for far longer than that, burst forth from him in a flurry of strikes and blows, an unending attack against a seemingly infinite enemy.

And no matter how many opponents he cut down, the flood  _did_  seem to be infinite. He shoved his lightsaber through the eye of one clone; turned, cut another in half. Finally, several blasts of energy got through the shield of whirling plasma blades and extinguished the lives of two more of Anakin's comrades.

Clones started to pour through the gap, and there was nothing more for him to do. Falling back through the entry chamber into the Great Hall, Anakin was relieved to see a few dozen lightsabers ignite into being at various strategic locations near the far end of the room: it seemed they'd managed to buy enough time for at least the preliminary defenses to be organized. With a Force-enhanced flip backwards over the heads of the clones who'd pushed past him, he landed meters away from Serra Keto. She ignited her lightsabers—that's right, he recalled from the one mission they'd had together in the Outer Rim that she preferred dual-wielding—and stepped to the side to allow him a place in the defensive line.

"They're still getting the younglings out," she called to him, green blades flashing. "We need to buy more time." Anakin nodded in understanding—it was still late afternoon, and the children would have been in classes scattered throughout the Temple when the warning came, which made for a lengthy evacuation.

Taking stock of the situation, he noted that the clones hadn't surged forward as they had done on the steps, apparently having realized the futility of engaging the Jedi within the range of a lightsaber. Instead, the first group was firing from their position near the door while others began to advance along the walls to either side; soon, Anakin thought with some annoyance as he batted a blaster bolt back towards the mass of enemies, they would have the Jedi surrounded on three sides. Clones were dying, yes, but even with the reinforcements within the hall the Jedi were outnumbered. And to his sides and above him on the walkways where some had taken up positions, more and more were succumbing.

They didn't have enough of a strategic advantage to stop the incursion here anymore than they had on the Temple steps. And if—when—they  _did_ get surrounded, this encounter was going to be over very, very quickly.

Okay. Anakin forced himself to shove the anger still humming in his blood at the clones' betrayal to the side so that he could think clearly. The Jedi had the benefits of the Force, of skill and speed and familiarity with the battlefield. The clones had one single advantage: sheer, overwhelming numbers. And right now, it seemed that that was enough for them to be winning the war of attrition.

So all he needed to do was negate that advantage.

"We need to get back into the corridors," Anakin shouted to Keto over the sounds of energy bolts and humming plasma. "Take 'em on a few at a time." A curt nod was the only acknowledgement he received from the other Knight, but she began passing the message along to the forces under her command and soon lightsabers were passing out of Anakin's peripheral vision as their holders drew back to the entrance of the hall. In under a minute, he sensed that he and Keto were the only ones remaining.

Which meant, of course, that they were now the singular focus of  _all_ the clones who had begun to press forward in earnest once more. "You take the eight-hundred on that side and I'll take the eight-hundred on this side," he suggested, not daring to let up his deflections even for a moment as the two backed towards the door. From the look on her face, he suspected she didn't find that as funny as he was sure Obi-Wan would have.

And then they were through the door and into the corridor which branched out in nearly a dozen directions to reach all corners of the Temple. It was, Anakin knew, something of a risky plan. Though the narrowness of the hallways would reduce the number of clones faced by any one Jedi to a manageable number, to cover all the possible routes, the remaining Jedi would have to split up into groups of two or three—no, looking around, too many had died already for that to work, they would have to be in pairs or alone. Unlike in the great hall, the death of one or two Jedi would give the clones a direct path into the inner part of the Temple. And there was no question of that occurring sooner or later.

Anakin drew into one of the remaining undefended corridors. It wasn't arrogance to say that he was as skilled a fighter as any three of the other surviving Jedi, so pairing up with someone else would be redundant and besides, he didn't  _really_  like working with anyone but Obi-Wan. The clones came through moments later; as he'd hoped, the bottleneck of the hallways squeezed them into rows of no more than four across.

The other flaw in his plan, Anakin realized as he ducked to avoid one blaster shot and deflected another back towards it source, was that he was now cut off from the other Jedi and couldn't see how any of them were faring. And while that didn't affect him or his part of the fight, he  _hated_  not knowing what was going on around him. Hated not knowing if any of his companions were in trouble or in need of his help. And the Force was screaming from too many directions, roiling with confusion and violence and death on all sides, for him to sense anything specific.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, he focused on the one thing he  _could_ control: killing as many clones as possible. And if that wasn't the most Jedi-like though—death should be at most a byproduct of defending justice, not an anticipated goal—well, he'd given up on being the perfect Jedi days ago when he'd first broken into the holocron vault.

* * *

Flying over the skies of Cato Nemoidia, it took all of Plo Koon's Jedi control to keep his starfighter steady when he was alerted of what was about to come.

Cataloguing his options took mere seconds. He was surrounded by soon-to-be-enemy starfighters. The planet below, too, was crawling with clones in the midst of finishing driving out the Separatist forces. And while the Force made him a more skilled pilot than any of the clones in the air around him, he was not so arrogant as to be sure of his survival if it came to a fight against so many. One mistake was all it would take.

Koon veered his starfighter sharply to the side, away from the planet below.

Immediately, the voice of clone Captain Jag came crackling over the comlink. _"Sir? General Koon, come in. You are off-course."_

Koon didn't waste time replying. Pushing his starfighter to the limits of its speed while he entered the coordinates for Coruscant into his hyperdrive, he made it to the outer atmosphere of the planet before spotting several ARC-170s following in pursuit. Dodging and rolling to avoid their fire—there were too many clones in the area to make fighting back an efficient option—he shot out of Cato Nemoidia's gravity well just as the clone fighters began to converge on him.

With only a moment of sorrow for the betrayal of the men he had trusted mere minutes before, Plo Koon made the jump to hyperspace.

* * *

Anakin had fallen into an repetitive, almost mindless pattern of deflection—using Soresu's smooth continuous defense to save strength for what looked to still be a long battle ahead—when there was a cry from ahead, somewhere just out of his sight, and a clone he recognized as Commander Appo flung out an arm to point off to the side. At the gesture, about half the clones that had been firing at him peeled off and joined a larger group rushing in the same direction.

Anakin swallowed, throat suddenly dry.  _Kriff._  He had no doubt that one of his fellow Jedi had just fallen—it burned him that he didn't know who—and if the clones had gained access to any one of the other hallways, then his defense of this one had become futile. Abandoning his deflections, he thrust a hand out in front of him and  _pushed._  The remaining clones flew backwards, crashing into the ranks behind them.

Turning, Anakin ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He ducked almost immediately into a side corridor, then into another, heading into the depths of the Temple. Behind him he could hear the shouts of the clones; sounds of fighting were beginning to come from all directions though there was no one else in sight.

He sprinted up one corridor and down another into the northwestern section of the Temple, zig-zagging towards where Cin Drallig had planned to gather the inner defenses. Movement from a hallway off to the side caught his eye; he spun into a defensive position, lightsaber at the ready.

Anakin found himself facing Shaak Ti, her own lightsaber raised. He exhaled in relief and lowered his weapon; striding towards him, she did the same. "Children evacuated?" he asked.

She nodded, beckoning him down another corridor. "Ali-Alann and some of the older Padawans took them into the lower levels," she told him as they ran. "The clones had too many gunships in the area for them to evacuate by air."

Anakin raised an eyebrow—the lower levels weren't exactly  _safe_  themselves, but then, he supposed, these were  _Jedi_ children, and it was still better than facing trained soldiers. "We sent out some of our own interceptors to take out some of their gunships and ground forces," Ti continued, and Anakin spared a moment to wish he was  _there—_ blasting some enemies from the familiarity of a starfighter cockpit could almost be fun—but it was too late to change assignments.

And was it just him, or was the sound of shouting and running footsteps getting louder?

The two Jedi raced around a corner and through a doorway to their destination, the Room of a Thousand Fountains. They were met immediately inside the door by Cin Drallig, who waved them inside. "How far behind you?" he asked.

Anakin shook his head. "Not very," he replied grimly, looking around. "A few minutes, maybe." At first glance he thought that this wasn't going to work either, that Drallig too had far too few fighters to make an effective stand. Then he caught sight of a teenage Padawan—Whie something—crouched behind a nearby fountain and reached out with his senses. Dozens of presences lit up the Force, some behind fountains or bushes, others hidden in trees or under bridges, still others on the catwalks above their heads.

This wasn't going to be a stand. It was going to be an ambush. Anakin grinned.

He and Ti and Drallig backed up to stand in an open area a good hundred meters from the entrance to the garden, in plain sight of the door, while the rest of the Knights and Padawans hid.

"So, still having fun on the Council,  _Knight_  Skywalker?" a voice inquired from behind him. Anakin spun to face yet another teenage Padawan, this one dark-haired and female with a somewhat unimpressed look on her face.

For a moment, he was completely thrown—though he'd only encountered her two days before, it seemed like an entirely different lifetime. "Oh," he said. "Uh, Bene, was it? Um. Sorry if I got you in trouble."

"I think we're all in trouble at the moment," she replied breezily. "So defeat a few clones for me and I'll call it good, assuming we both survive all this." She waved a hand around as if to indicate what  _all this_  was.

"Bene," cut in Master Drallig before Anakin could come up with a response. "Hide. Now." She bowed to him and Shaak Ti, gave Anakin a lazy salute that he could only describe as ironic, then ran and Force-jumped into a tree a few meters away. "What was  _that_  about?" Drallig asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Uh," said Anakin, and was almost grateful when he was saved from answering by the appearance of clones in the room's doorway.

* * *

Jedi Master Ki-Adi-Mundi had just begun crossing the narrow bridge which would lead him and his men into one of Mygeeto's largest city districts amidst heavy blasterfire from the other side when the warning came through his earpiece.

Deciding to take his chances with the Separatist droids rather than with the highly trained clone troops behind him, Mundi increased his pace and drew ahead of his troops.

He was halfway across when the first shot came from Commander Bacara, and soon he was deflecting a hail of blaster bolts from both directions as he ran.

Mundi was nearing the end of the bridge when the fatal shot made it through his defenses. He never knew which side had fired the bolt that killed him.

* * *

The clones saw the three Jedi standing in the open with lightsabers ignited and rushed towards them. Anakin gritted his teeth and prepared for the onslaught.  _How are there still so many of them left?_  He'd killed so many already.

The troops opened fire immediately. Resisting the urge to charge forward and start just decapitating the barves, Anakin instead forced himself to stay in place as he batted blasterfire away from him.  _C'mon, just a little bit farther…_

And then the main force of the clones were upon them and Anakin found himself back-to-back-to-back with the two Jedi Masters as they cut and struck and deflected. Moments later, he heard the surprisingly loud  _snap-hiss_  of nearly a hundred lightsabers igniting in unison, audible even over sound of the clones' blasters.

Through the battle, he caught glimpses of Jedi jumping out from fountains to fell clones from behind, dropping out of trees or down from catwalks to catch their opponents by surprise. The Force thrummed with death and violence.

Too much of the fight was taking place out of Anakin's line of sight—it was an enormous room, and much of his vision was obscured by foliage and fountains—for him to tell if this engagement was any more successful than the previous two had been. The number of clone bodies scattered on the ground suggested that the ambush had been fairly successful, but it was hard to see how many more were left alive. He  _did_ see when a clone—Commander Appo, again—knelt down and aimed his blaster at the back of Yoland Fee, who was fighting another large group ten meters away. Bisecting the clone he had been fighting with a flick of his lightsaber, Anakin let a Force-enhanced leap carry him directly in front of Appo.

Before the clone could react, Anakin cut off his blaster hand at the wrist. He reached out and used the Force to  _grab_ Appo's neck and lift him from the ground, then, with a flick of his hand, he sent the choking man flying into a tree. The loud  _crack_  and odd angle of Appo's neck assured him that the threat was eliminated, though now, he realized, he had been separated from Ti and Drallig.

That was fine. He worked best on his own, anyways. Anakin rejoined the fray.

* * *

On the battle-scarred world of Saleucami, Stass Allie was patrolling with two of the clones under her command when the warning came. And if the very idea of a clone rebellion sounded ludicrous, she also had only lived this long by not taking unnecessary risks, and that meant planning for the worst.

She immediately decelerated, allowing the two clones to speed past her.

"General?" asked Commander Neyo, in what sounded like genuine confusion.

"I sense something," she lied. "Continue on ahead." She yanked her speeder bike into a ninety-degree turn and shot off as fast as the machine would carry her.

She could hear the sound of the two clones' speeders fading for a minute or so as she sped out of sight; then, suddenly, the noises started growing louder, and she knew the warning had been legitimate because her clones would never have disobeyed her order otherwise.

Leaping off the bike, she used the Force to depress the accelerator and sent it speeding off into the distance. Then, she turned and ran as fast as the Force would carry her in the opposite direction. It occurred to her that she didn't have any way off planet unless she returned for her starship. But the base would be crawling with clones, and they would be expecting her, and the first rule of Jedi combat was to  _survive._

Allie continued to run with no destination in mind, trusting entirely in the Force to lead her to salvation.

* * *

"Well,  _this_  looks utterly delightful," commented a voice with a clipped Coruscanti accent from behind him a few minutes later, and Anakin almost smiled.

"Yep," he replied, redirecting several blaster bolts in quick succession. "Were you able to contact anyone in time?"

"Some," said Obi-Wan. "More than I had feared, but…fewer than I had hoped. A group of clones came for the communication center, but enough of our reinforcements came that we were able to hold them off long enough to finish." Sensing him fall into place defending Anakin's back, Anakin couldn't help but feel some relief. Whatever he might have done, whatever trust might have been broken, here and now, at least, they were still The Team.

Then something caught his eye, and he frowned in confusion. "Hey, looks like someone's shooting  _at_  the clones. Who could that be?" He couldn't quite make them out, but they definitely weren't Jedi.

"Local law enforcement, perhaps?" Obi-Wan suggested, and sure enough one of the newcomers moved close enough that Anakin could make out her Coruscant Security Force uniform.

"Finally," Anakin muttered. "Wonder who brought  _them_  in." He knew the police wouldn't have the same training or experience as the clone soldiers they were fighting, but at least the numbers had now evened out.

"I think I know," said Obi-Wan. "Look." He indicated a purple lightsaber bobbing and weaving its way towards them.

"Took you kriffing long enough to get here," Anakin snapped when Windu arrived. "It doesn't take  _that_ long to come from the Senate."

"Long story," grunted Windu in reply. "I'll explain later when we're not  _all being shot at._ "

Fair enough.

The size of the two forces had equalized with the arrival of the CSF, and Anakin could now tell for certain that the tide was beginning to turn in the Jedi's favor. Clone armor could only absorb so many blaster bolts, and any clone who dodged out of the line of fire was just as likely to meet his end on a lightsaber.

Jedi who had drawn into larger defensive circles, as they had done on Geonosis, now began to go on the offensive. Pursing the fragmented clone squadrons, they herded the remaining enemies—who had enough experience with Jedi to retreat and regroup when being actively pursued by one—towards the open area in the center of the gardens where the CSF were concentrated.

Now, it was the clones that were surrounded. And they hadn't been trained to surrender.

The clone troops died doing what they had done all of their lives: following orders.

* * *

Twilight fell on the Jedi Temple.

Once the fight in the Room of a Thousand Fountains had ended, there was still mopping-up to do in the rest of the Temple. CSF officers led by Jedi swept through the rest of the building, clearing each individual room. Most were empty—it seemed that once the clones had realized that the Jedi had been pre-warned and largely evacuated, they had concentrated their troops on whatever pockets of defense they could find. But a few had still been searching the depths of the Temple for defenders, and finishing off the stragglers had taken more than two hours. Smaller battles in the communications center, Archives, hangar bay, and a chamber near the front of the Temple where many of the Jedi who had defended the corridors near the Great Hall had retreated to, had been fought and won or lost before the main conflict had ended.

And then they had begun to count the bodies. Among the dead were Gate Master Jurokk, Cin Drallig, Tru Veld, Olana Chion, Serra Keto, Whie Malreaux, and countless others. Of the Jedi who had initially defended the steps, only Anakin and two others had survived.

He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. Numb, maybe. Now that it was over, the destruction didn't seem entirely real.

The ancient halls of the Jedi Temple were scorched with blaster bolts. The Room of a Thousand Fountains, as the site of the largest conflict, was in tatters. Between the burnt shrubbery, damaged fountains, and the death echoing throughout the Force, it would be a long time before the gardens could become a place of relaxation and meditation once again.

Reports were beginning to trickle in from Jedi in the fields. Some had escaped. Others were trapped on-planet with no way to leave, on the run from the clones they had been commanding. Others whom Obi-Wan said he had warned were silent, and there was no way of knowing if they were dead or had simply gone to ground.

How many Jedi had died, nobody knew.

* * *

The evacuees began to return from the lower levels. The emergency beacon was set to recall: all Jedi, even the ones who had been on diplomatic or humanitarian missions and had avoided the disaster, were ordered to return home.

The Temple healers—and Jedi who were not healers, but wanted to help nonetheless—began to treat the wounded.

Masters comforted their Padawans. Padawans whose Masters had been killed huddled together in misery. Rather than assist in clearing the halls, Grand Master Yoda had sat down in the middle of one of these groups and soon it had grown to include not just orphaned apprentices, but initiates and Knights and Masters all kneeling in not-quite-meditation, not-quite-vigil.

Dusk turned into night, and night turned into dawn, and the Jedi Order quietly prepared to face a new day.


	15. Trial (pt. 1)

Mace Windu glanced around the Council chambers as he settled himself into his seat. The reminders of the previous day's events were inescapable—four Council members had been confirmed dead, and Anakin Skywalker, it was generally understood, no longer had a seat in these chambers. In less than twenty-four hours, the Council had been reduced to seven members.

It was barely enough to make quorum, even with Stass holoconferencing from her hiding place on Saleucami.

"Begin, we should," Yoda declared as soon as everyone had seated themselves. "Master Windu, an update on the clone situation you have?"

Mace nodded. "All attempts to contact the clones through official lines have continued to fail," he said. This was no surprise: his attempts yesterday to quell the mutiny first by directing Vice Chair Amedda—who, by Order 4 of the same contingency edict the clones had been acting off of in the first place, ought to have had command of the army with the Chancellor dead—to revoke the directive, and then by strong-arming the Senate to rescind Order 66 entirely, had both come to nothing. Whatever Palpatine had done, whether it was a privately-given order not to let anyone countermand his decree or some sort of programming all the way back from Kamino, was effective. For all intents and purposes, the Grand Army of the Republic had gone rogue.

"Reports are coming in that all the clones have ceased all other military operations and have begun blockading and scouring the planets where Jedi were able to escape them," he continued. "Though a few have managed to return to Coruscant, many of our Knights and Masters are trapped." He nodded at Stass, who was in one such position. "As most of these planets are Separatist-aligned, it will be difficult for them to gain protection or transportation from local authorities."

"And yet any of our rescue parties would be equally at risk," added Obi-Wan.

Mace nodded. "The clones have the numbers and the equipment. To confront them head-on would guarantee heavy losses, and given the number of these situations, such a strategy would quickly become untenable." Not that anybody who had been present for the Temple attack needed any reminder of that. "We'll have to rely on stealth missions, and see if we can get into contact with sympathetic locals who may be able to shelter them."

He leaned forward. "Disturbingly, the clones have disappeared entirely from planets where all Jedi were killed or able to flee the system. As they are no longer using Republic comm frequencies or tracking signals, we have no idea where they are or what they might be planning."

A grim silence fell.

Finally, Coleman Kcaj sighed and asked, "Is there any  _good_  news?"

"Always," responded Yoda. "Alive, we are. Still arriving on Coruscant are more and more Jedi—alive  _they_  are. Trust in the Force we still can."

"And at least the Sith Lord is dead," added Plo Koon, who had returned to Coruscant not long after Yoda and the others from Kashyyyk had the night before. "We can be grateful for that."

"And that brings me to my next point," said Mace. "As I'm sure you are all aware, we now face the potential of an internal threat. Obi-Wan, why don't you explain to everyone what happened with Skywalker in Palpatine's office?" By now, every Council member had been given a general breakdown of the previous night's events—and Mace highly suspected the news had spread beyond the seven of them—but only now, with the clones driven from the Coruscant system entirely, was there time for a more detailed account.

Obi-Wan appeared to be bothered by his word choice, but didn't contradict it—and really, Mace wasn't sure how anyone could deny at this point that Anakin Skywalker could be a threat. The younger Councilman swallowed visibly, rubbing his eyes. Skywalker's near-betrayal, it seemed, had hit him hard. "Anakin entered while I was fighting Palpatine," he began, voice tight, and then cut himself off. "Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "No, it began before that. Shortly after Master Windu left for Utapau, Anakin requested to re-enter the Holocron Vault in order to research prophetic visions…"

Mace raised an eyebrow—nobody had mentioned this to him the night before. He listened with growing trepidation as Obi-Wan described being commed by Palpatine, and what he'd found when he returned. "He actually went into the Sith Vault? Did he touch anything?"

Obi-Wan winced, then nodded. "At the time, I thought I had managed to get to him before anything could happen. But we found a Sith holocron in Palpatine's office."

Mace exchanged an alarmed look with Yoda. Force, this was a nightmare. "Are you telling me he was collaborating with Palpatine all along? I thought you told me his decision in the Chancellor's office seemed spur-of-the-moment!"

"I think he was  _manipulated_  by Palpatine all along," Obi-Wan corrected. "And it did seem spontaneous; I'll show you the recording of it later. I'm...still not sure what he was thinking when he broke into the Vault."

"Where is Anakin now?" interjected Shaak Ti. "The way this is sounding, I'm not sure I like the idea of him wandering around the Temple."

"With Padmé," Obi-Wan replied, and Mace was sure he wasn't the only one who disapproved of  _that_  answer. But from what he'd heard the night before, Amidala would be able to keep an eye on the boy—Obi-Wan had said she had played a major role in keeping him from falling.

"Continue, Obi-Wan," he said, and settled back into his chair to listen.

* * *

For the first time since the events in Palpatine's office, Padmé Amidala found herself alone with her husband. The Senate had stayed in session long past normal hours the night before, and she still had a little while before it would reconvene again to deal with the mess Palpatine had left behind.

Rather than take the opportunity to sleep, she had come here to Anakin's apartment in the Jedi Temple—even though she knew there was no point in trying to hide their relationship anymore, the reversal of their normal situation was slightly disconcerting. Despite the gravity of the circumstances, she couldn't help but look around at the quarters in curiosity. They were small—normal for a Jedi, she presumed—and covered with what looked like spare droid parts.

It bothered her for reasons that she couldn't quite explain that this was the first time she had a chance to see the living space of the man she'd been married to for three years. Yes, there had been good reasons, and yes, there were more important things about him she'd apparently been unaware of, but still…

"Anakin," she said, once they were both seated in the sparse living room, "we need to talk."

He nodded, glancing down at the floor. "I...I know," he muttered, and then fell silent.

"Anakin…"

"I only wanted to help, okay!" he burst out. "I...I wanted to save you, and Palpatine seemed so genuine."

"He wanted to destroy the Republic! Everything we've worked for; everything we've fought for, and you were going to—!" She cut herself off. It was hardly fair to take her exhaustion and frustration out on Anakin when he had been, if anything, Palpatine's greatest victim. It didn't excuse what he had nearly done, but, well, who was she to judge anyone for being taken in by the man she herself had put in office?

Anakin looked miserable. "You  _are_  everything I've fought for," he said quietly.

Padmé closed her eyes briefly. "There are more important things in the galaxy than me," she told him firmly. How long had he been telling her that sort of thing— _I love you more than anything, Padmé, you're all I live for, there's_ nothing _I wouldn't do for you_ —and she had thought he was being sweet, romantically hyperbolic?

It had stopped being sweet when 'anything' had turned out to mean democracy, the Jedi, his own soul and sanity.

"Would you have done it?" he asked suddenly. She looked at him, confused. "Would you really have, have left me? If I'd gone through with it?"

Padmé hesitated. "I would have tried to change your mind," she replied slowly. "I wouldn't have given up on you immediately. But...no, I wouldn't have followed you down that path."

A look of devastation crossed Anakin's face, and he jumped up from the couch. "Why?" he asked, pacing around the room. "I was doing it for you. For our family. Even if it was wrong...why couldn't our love be enough?"

Sighing, Padmé rose and crossed the room to place a hand on his shoulder. "I love you, Anakin. But I wouldn't stay and watch you self-destruct, not if it meant the fall of the Republic. Not if it meant our child would grow up in a galaxy ruled by a monster. Love is more than acceptance, it's...being aware of each other's flaws, and pushing each other to be better because you care about them." It had taken her too long to truly understand that. Three years ago, she had listened to Anakin confess to a massacre and done nothing, because she didn't want him to get in trouble when he was already so clearly upset, and because thinking too much about what he had done frightened her. She'd told herself it was a fluke of grief, that he was all right, really.

And look where that attitude had gotten them. She wouldn't make the same mistake again.

Anakin wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling into her hair. "What are we going to do, Padmé?" he whispered. "I don't even know if they'll let me keep being a Jedi after all this. I just want you to be okay."

"We'll figure it out," she said, stroking his back. "But we'll do it together; we'll make decisions as a family. No more secret plans or keeping things from each other. Okay?" Seeing him in Palpatine's office—she had been genuinely frightened. Not of him, but for him—he'd been pale and shaky and wild, falling apart and consumed by his drive to save her, by Palpatine's manipulations. She never wanted to go through that again.

"Okay," he agreed. He pulled back to look at her, biting his lip. "Maybe you should go visit the healers today," he suggested. "They could take a look at you, see if they can find any reason you might die in childbirth."

Padmé frowned. "The Temple healers? Aren't they busy after what happened last night? I still have a few weeks; they should tend to the people who were injured in the attack first."

For a moment, she thought Anakin was going to protest. Finally, he nodded. "Tomorrow, then," he pressed. "Please. I know you aren't worried about it, but it...it'll help me a lot if I know you're going to be safe."

"I will," she assured him. "I want to have a living being check on the baby anyways. I'm sure the med-droid knew what it was doing, but it's not the same." And at this point, it would be a load off of her mind to know there was no reason for Anakin's fear for her safety to push him any closer to the edge.

Anakin rested a hand on her stomach. "Thank you." He pulled her close again, and Padmé closed her eyes, not quite able to pretend that everything was as it used to be.

"It was then I was commed by Master Windu, and, well, you've all heard what happened from there." Silence descended over the Council chambers as Obi-Wan finished his story.

He rubbed his eyes. Explaining the events of the previous day had been...exhausting, in a way far more than the physical, and with the constant interruption for updates on the status of Jedi arriving at the Temple or making contact to say they were in hiding, this was turning out to be one of the longest Council meetings he'd ever attended.

And it wasn't over yet.

"I would like a chance to view the complete recording of what happened in Palpatine's office before we start making any decisions about Anakin," Shaak said, and the others nodded in agreement.

"I think there's one matter we ought to take care of first," interjected Mace. "In the past, matters of this importance would never have been debated by so few of us. While I certainly don't want to rush to fill Council seats with members who aren't prepared, I don't think we would be amiss in promoting one or two Masters whose names had come up when we discussed who ought to fill the seat we were forced to put Skywalker in."

"Agree, I do," said Yoda. "A decision of great importance and precedent for the Jedi Order, this will be. To make it with only seven voices, a risk of misinterpreting the will of the Force we would be taking."

And with that, the Council began to propose candidates. Despite the relative seriousness of the discussion, Obi-Wan couldn't help but find it difficult to focus. His thoughts kept turning to Anakin, to the very real possibility his friend might be expelled at the precise moment when he was in most need of the Order's support.

Silently, he prayed to the Force—both that Anakin would be given a second chance, and that he would  _use_  it.

* * *

Anakin wasn't entirely—or at all—surprised to receive a summons to the Council chamber. That they wanted to see Padmé as well...that was a little unexpected.

"You willing to come?" he asked. "I know you should be getting back to the Senate."

Padmé shook her head. "This is important, too," she replied. "And the  _Senate_  is planning to repeal just about every bill Palpatine ever supported—whether it was a legitimately good idea that would have passed anyway or not, so that should make a fine mess—and they'll do it whether I'm there or not." She squeezed his hand. "Besides, I would be coming whether the Council requested me to or not."

"Thanks," Anakin said. He was relieved—he didn't know how this was going to go; he didn't even quite know how he wanted it to go, but whatever the Council decided, he would be glad to have Padmé there.

Were they going to expel him? Would he even care if they did? There had been times when he'd thought about leaving the Order to be with Padmé once the war was over, and the Jedi had never given him the recognition he deserved anyways...

...or was that just something Palpatine had always told him? He wasn't sure he could tell the difference. He wasn't sure there  _was_  a difference; surely not everything the man had told him was a lie. The Jedi had always treated him with suspicion, and that certainly wasn't going to change now even if he wasn't excommunicated for his actions.

They were greeted by Obi-Wan at the door to the Council chambers. "The Council wishes to speak with Anakin alone to start," he explained. "Padmé, you'll be called inside in a few minutes to testify about your relationship."

"Anything concerning my husband concerns me as well," Padmé told him, and swept through the door. Anakin followed her, trying not to grin.

Mace Windu was looking at her, eyebrow raised. "Senator Amidala, if you could wait outside..."

"No."

Windu opened his mouth, then closed it again, apparently deciding not to argue. A good strategy when Padmé was in this sort of mood, Anakin thought. "Very well. But we must ask that you remain quiet while we ask Knight Skywalker a few questions."

Padmé nodded. Trying not to let his apprehension show on his face, Anakin glanced around at the people who would be deciding his future. He did a double take when he noticed Luminara Unduli and another Master he barely recognized—Tholme, he thought his name was—neither of whom had been on the Council the day before.

A tiny voice in the back of his head that sounded more than a little like Palpatine said that he was more powerful than either of them; he squashed it down with a vengeance.

"Young Skywalker," began Yoda gravely. "Know why you are here, do you?"

Anakin fought down the urge to glare at him in response to the obvious question—of course he knew why he was here; from the whispers that had followed him and Padmé all the way to the Council spire, everyone in the Sith-damned Temple knew why he was here. "Yes, Master Yoda," he responded. "I do."

"We have watched the video recording of last night's events," said Windu. "You are charged with maintaining a forbidden relationship, breaking into the Holocron Vault, conspiring with a Sith to break into the dark-side Inner Vault, removing an artifact and giving it to said Sith, and agreeing to the destruction of the Jedi Order in exchange for your wife's life. Do you deny anything I have said?"

"I didn't know Palpatine was a Sith when I gave him the holocron!" Anakin retorted. "But, um. The rest of it, yes. I did all that." And at the time, it had all seemed so reasonable...

"Why would you give it to him if you weren't aware of his identity?"

"I don't know, okay!"

"All right, all right," Obi-Wan interrupted them. "Anakin," he said gently, "why don't you start from the beginning and talk to us about why you decided to break into the Vault the first time."

Anakin exhaled. Okay. This he could talk about. "I'd been having visions of Padmé dying in childbirth. And after what Palpatine said at the opera house—"

"What did he say?" Obi-Wan asked, sounding confused, and Anakin remembered that they'd only discovered his searches for healing, not for Plagueis himself.

Oh well. It wasn't as though he could possibly get in any more trouble. A little bit of guilt nagged at him, though; he remembered promising to be honest with Obi-Wan at the start of all this so that the older man wouldn't get blindsided again, and he hadn't been doing a very good job.

"Palpatine had mentioned a legend about a Sith named Plagueis who could influence the midichlorians to control life and death," he told them quickly, deciding he might as well get it over with. "I thought I could use that power to save Padmé, so I decided to look him up where I was most likely to find information about secret Force-powers, and that was the Holocron Vault."

Even Padmé looked surprised at that revelation. Obi-Wan appeared...not quite as stunned as Anakin had expected. "You were already trying to research Sith techniques," he said, voice flat. And then, sighing, sounding more exasperated than angry, "Oh,  _Anakin_."

Windu was looking at him incredulously. "Obi-Wan told you there was a Sith in Palpatine's administration and Palpatine started telling you Sith legends, and it  _didn't occur to you to be suspicious_?"

Anakin flushed. Put that way, it sounded like he had either suspected Palpatine all along and been covering for him, or been a total idiot. "I wasn't focusing on that!" he snapped. "I was more concerned about if I could use the legend—well, not a legend, Plagueis was really Palpatine's Master—than where it had come from. Anyway, I wasn't even sure it was real."

"Very well." Windu leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingers. "And how did you discover the existence of the Sith Vault?"

Anakin explained how he'd overheard the conversation with Obi-Wan. "And I didn't think I'd be able to get in, but then I was talking to Palpatine and he had all these plans for how I could do it, and I...I thought he was just trying to help." In retrospect, he'd only been trying to help himself. And Anakin had played right into his hands. "So I said what he told me to make sure the Council sent Master Windu instead of Obi-Wan to Utapau, and then I told him when we were about to enter the Vault so that he could call Obi-Wan away."

He could feel the heat of the accusing stares burning into his neck. "You deliberately collaborated with an outsider to deceive the Council and gain access to dark artifacts." Windu shook his head. "Even if you  _didn't_  know Palpatine was a Sith...Skywalker, do you regret that decision?"

"Of course I do," Anakin replied immediately. Breaking into the Sith Vault hadn't helped Padmé; in the end, all that it had brought him was trouble.

It was Shaak Ti who spoke up next. "But would you regret it if you had found the information you were looking for? Do you still believe it would have all been worth it to save Amidala's life?"

Anakin didn't respond for a long moment. "I..." He trailed off, glancing helplessly over at Padmé, honestly unsure.

"I see," said Mace Windu quietly, and Obi-Wan bowed his head.

Anakin was relieved when Luminara Unduli broke the silence. "In the recording, you talked about listening to one of the holocrons—the one that was found in Palpatine's office, I presume?"

He nodded. "I found it in my pocket after Obi-Wan and I left the Archives. I...I didn't remember taking it, everything after I stepped into the Vault is kind of a blur, but I knew I'd be in trouble if anyone found me with it. I thought Palpatine might know what to do, since he'd helped me get in in the first place, and he said we should listen to it even if it might be dangerous. So I opened it."

Several of the Council members exchanged wary glances. "And did you like what you heard?" asked Tholme.

Again, Anakin hesitated. "It didn't...It wasn't very specific, and I didn't listen to very much of it, only the gatekeeper. And none of what he said seemed  _wrong_ , it wasn't about hurting anybody or anything." Though there had definitely been something in there about conquering the galaxy...but that hadn't been what appealed to him, not even at his lowest moment. "He talked about accepting yourself and embracing your power and that sort of thing. Probably just the stuff meant to get people to want to dig further and listen to the really dark techniques." Not that  _he_  hadn't been tempted to go deeper—he remembered how conflicted he had been. If Obi-Wan hadn't been there when he'd gone to visit Palpatine the next day, would he have ended up listening to more of the holocron? He wished he could believe he wouldn't, but if Palpatine had encouraged him…

Windu made as if to say something in reply, but was cut off by Yoda. "Informative it is, to hear your account. But still missing the most important information we are. What do  _you_  want from this trial, young Anakin? Heard you agree to the destruction of the Jedi Order, we all have. Yet by all accounts, demonstrated great courage in your defense of the Temple only a few hours later, you did also. Knight Skywalker, loyal you remain to the Jedi? Or not?"

All eyes turned back to Anakin, awaiting his reply. "I...am," he said. He didn't agree with some of the Code, or with many of the Council's decisions. But to the Order as a whole, to Obi-Wan, to the idea of being a Jedi and bringing peace and justice to the galaxy… "To the degree that it doesn't interfere with my relationship with Padmé, yes. I didn't want to do what I agreed to for Palpatine." Of course, not wanting to destroy the Order didn't necessarily mean wanting to continue living in it. He still hadn't decided about that.

"But you would have gone through with it anyway," commented Shaak Ti. "Actually, Anakin, I would like to hear more about this...attachment…which drove you to so many things." Beside him, Anakin could see Padmé jerk her chin up defiantly.

"Hold on," interrupted Windu. "There's still one part of the recording I have a quick question about. Something Palpatine said."

Palpatine had said a lot of things, and many of them Anakin couldn't even quite remember clearly. "What?"

"He mentioned actions you had taken," explained Windu. " ' _Three years ago on Tatooine_ ' was the exact wording. Can you tell us what he was referring to?"


	16. Trial (pt. 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part two of a double-update--two chapters uploaded on the same night. If the last thing you remember reading was the battle in the Jedi Temple, stop reading here and go back to the previous chapter.

_"He mentioned actions you had taken," explained Windu. 'Three years ago on Tatooine' was the exact wording. Can you tell us what he was referring to?"_

Anakin felt the blood drain out of his face, and he couldn't breathe. Padmé had had grabbed his hand and was squeezing it.  _Kriffkriffkriff_  he'd forgotten Palpatine had said that, it hadn't even  _occurred_  to him that the Jedi would find out. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to think about it. Not even Padmé ever brought it up; it was a secret that was supposed to be dead and buried so far deep inside him that he could pretend he didn't remember.

"I don't—I don't want to—" he stuttered, and he was partially aware that some of the Council members were now looking at him with concern. "It's not... _important_."

Padmé tugged him to face her. "Ani, I think you should tell them."

He shook his head desperately. Agreeing under pressure to help Palpatine destroy the Jedi was one thing, but if the Council knew that he'd committed a massacre of his own free will...

"Anakin," Obi-Wan prompted gently, looking sympathetic. "From the timing, I assume this has something to do with your mother's death?"

Something _._ More than  _something._ The hope he'd had when he'd sensed her in that tent, the horror when he'd seen how battered and bloody she was, the slowly dawning realization that he had been too late, all of it came flooding into his mind. When the light had drained out of her eyes and the life had drained out of her body, he'd been so  _angry_ , and killing the ones who had done it had seemed like most natural thing in the world. And if he'd killed their innocent families as well, the children who had tilted their heads in confusion as he came towards them—well, they had killed  _his_  family, hadn't they? Hadn't  _she_  been just as innocent?

But then he'd come back to himself once the bloodbath was over, only to realize that it hadn't helped, that she was still just as dead. He had only the power to end life, not to restore it. "They  _killed_  her," he choked out. "They  _deserved_  what I did!"

Padmé tightened her grip on his hand.

Unusually pale, Obi-Wan raised a hand to cover his mouth. "You told me she was killed by Tusken raiders," he said after a moment. "Are you saying that you...hurt...some of them in return?"

"I  _killed_  them. I killed them  _all._ " The words tore out of him, half in confession, half in fury as the fire that had burned in his blood that night so long ago descended upon him once again with the tide of memories. "The whole village—I wiped it out, I  _had_ to. They were dangerous!"

And the Council were all staring at him again, some in horror, some in fear. Obi-Wan was in the first group—after everything, after all that Anakin had done, would this be the final straw? He knew what he'd done was wrong—had always known,  _I'm a Jedi, I_ know _I'm better than this._

"I  _had_  to," he repeated again, desperately, ashamed at the tears which were beginning to prickle in his eyes. But none of them understood, he could see it on their faces. Nobody ever had, except…" _Palpatine_  agreed with me, he said I was right to do it. It was justice that no-one else would bring, and if I hadn't done it, they would have just kept hurting people, it was right, he  _said._ "

"He said what you wanted to hear," Obi-Wan told him softly.

"No! It wasn't like that." Not always, not for so many years. "He...it wasn't  _all_  lies, he was right about some things, he was right about you!" His voice was breaking as he tried to make them see _._  "He said you would include me in your plot to spy on him, and you did. He said you would send Windu to Utapau if I asked you to send Obi-Wan, and you  _did._  He said my passions made me stronger and you were afraid of my power, and…!"

And that all he'd need to do to achieve his heart's desire was to betray his heart. Had  _any_ of it been real? The kindness, the gentle sympathy, the constant reassurance that what he was feeling was  _right._

Deep down, he knew Obi-Wan and Padmé were right. It made sense—why  _would_  the Chancellor have befriended him in the first place? A young slave boy, damaged and uncouth, was no real companionship for the most powerful man in the galaxy. Even taking into account his role in saving Palpatine's home planet.

The entire foundation of one of his longest—one of his  _only_ —friendships had been a lie, just another way for someone to gain power over him.

Anakin choked back a sob. Padmé pulled him towards her, and he pressed his face into her neck. He didn't want to look at the Council, didn't want to feel the weight of their judgment. Even without looking up, he could sense the apprehension and the accusation permeating the Force. Worse than that, from some of them he could feel  _pity._  "It's okay," Padme whispered into his ear. "Anakin, it's okay."

After a few more shaky breaths, he drew back. "Sorry," he said to the room at large, though he kept his eyes focused on Padmé. He wasn't even certain who he was apologizing to, or for what. It wasn't as though he hadn't done less Jedi-like things over the past few days than lose his composure. Maybe it was for everything. "Sorry."

"Anakin." He started at the sound of Obi-Wan's voice from directly behind him; he hadn't even noticed the other man get up. "Why don't...why don't you and I go talk outside for a few minutes?" Obi-Wan's tone was steady, but Anakin knew him well enough to detect that his friend was shaken. "Padme can tell the rest of the Council what I already know of your relationship, if that's all right with everyone."

Yoda nodded. "A good idea, that might be," he agreed, and Anakin was  _sure_  the Grand Master's piercing gaze was somehow seeing straight through him. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and grateful for a chance to escape the scrutiny, Anakin followed Obi-Wan out of the room.

* * *

 Padmé was thankful for Obi-Wan's intervention—if she could have arranged it, she would have wanted Anakin to tell him about the Tusken incident  _before_ it was exposed to the whole Council, but as it was, at least Anakin was getting a chance to compose himself.

It did have the result of leaving her alone in front of the Jedi Council for the first time. Which, she mused, might not be an entirely bad thing.

"Senator Amidala," began Yoda. "Sorry I am that such circumstances have brought you before us. But ask you some questions about your relationship with young Skywalker, I must."

Pushing her concern for Anakin aside—Obi-Wan would make sure he was fine—she nodded warily and replied, "I am sorry as well, Master Jedi." The idea of having her and Anakin's marriage picked apart by this group wasn't particularly appealing to her, but she didn't see any way out of it at this point—refusing to answer questions would only make them less sympathetic to Anakin's cause, and she didn't want that.

"How long have the two of you been together?" asked the Master she recognized as Mace Windu.

"Three years," she replied immediately. "We were married shortly after the Battle of Geonosis." It was striking, how much had changed on a single day—not only for her and Anakin, but for the Jedi and the Republic.

"And who initiated the relationship?" This time, the question came from Luminara Unduli.

Padmé bristled. "It was something we  _both_  decided we wanted," she told her. Yes, Anakin had been the first to declare his feelings—but he'd also accepted her rejection, and it had been her own free will to put reason aside and return the sentiment before entering the arena.

"And were you aware of the Jedi Order's rules regarding attachment?" Windu again.

"Yes," Padmé said. "Anakin didn't try to deceive me, if that's what you're asking. We both knew the trouble he could get in if anyone were to discover us."

"And yet you pursued a relationship anyway," commented Windu. "Did you see his duty to the Jedi as unimportant, then?"

"Of course not," snapped Padmé. "But I realized that Anakin was an adult—it was  _his_  career, and  _his_  choice if he wanted to risk it, not mine. Besides, I didn't see our relationship as conflicting with his duty."

Windu raised an eyebrow. "And now do you see the conflict? You know as well as I do what he nearly did in your name."

Padmé nodded. "I know," she admitted. And there was a lingering horror in her mind over that, to be certain. "But remember who the real enemy was. You heard Anakin just now: Palpatine planted the idea that led him to break into your Holocron Vault; it was Palpatine's idea that he break into the Sith Vault; Palpatine convinced him to open the holocron." It had been Anakin's choice to go along with it all, there was no denying that, but it had been a choice under extreme emotional pressure. "Palpatine was smart; do you really think he wouldn't have found a way to turn Anakin whether I was in the picture or not?"

"Perhaps," said Windu neutrally.

Padmé glared at him; in her mind, there was no  _perhaps_  about it. "As someone who was a pawn in Palpatine's game from more than ten years ago," she retorted, voice cool, "I can  _guarantee_  you he would have had a long term plan. Can you honestly say that you did anything but exactly what Palpatine wanted  _you_  to?"

"Perhaps not," Windu conceded. "But that doesn't change the fact that Anakin's attachment to you nearly caused him to fall to the dark side."

"And it was his attachment to Obi-Wan and I that stopped him from falling, in the end," she countered, gratified to see a few of the Council members—not many, but a few—nodding thoughtfully. "You know that, if you watched the recording. Love  _can_  be a weakness...but it can be a strength, as well."

"A good influence on young Skywalker you believe yourself to be, Senator?" Yoda asked. "No risk you see that your relationship might interfere with his missions?"

Padme considered. "There's always  _some_  risk," she replied. "But Master Yoda—Anakin and I have been together for three years. He reports his missions to you and this Council, doesn't he? You tell  _me_  if it's interfered with his work."

It was hard to tell, but she thought that Yoda looked amused at the retort. She wondered whether that was because he thought she had a good point, or because he saw her logic as absurd to the point of being hilarious.

"Off-topic, I think we are," Yoda said after a moment. "Unimportant it is whether his attachment to you has caused problems in the past—though his inability to let go of his mother, a great tragedy already has created. The  _present_ , we live in now, and in the future, we will tomorrow. Deny that interfering with his judgment Anakin's emotions are, do you? Grave danger to the galaxy, his attachment to you created. Create such a danger again it might."

"Or maybe it was his inability to handle his attachment that created the danger," Padme suggested, temper beginning to rise. "Maybe most people in the galaxy live happily with the ones they love without being a danger to  _anyone_ , because someone actually bothers to teach them how to deal with strong emotions rather than pretending they don't exist!"

Yoda was no longer looking amused, and Padme sighed. She respected the Jedi Order—they were one of the few groups she could think of whose members almost universally combined both genuinely good intentions with the drive to take action and  _do_ something for the galaxy. But their  _arrogance_ , sometimes, their surety that their way was not just right, but the  _only_  right way... "Look," she said, tamping down on her frustration. "Regardless of whether you agree with Anakin and my relationship, the fact remains that it exists. And it's going to continue to exist, so if you want to have any degree of influence in Anakin's life, you'll have to accept that."

None of the Council members appeared particularly happy with that pronouncement, but none of them tried to deny it either.

And that, Padme reflected, was probably about as much as she could hope for.

* * *

 Obi-Wan led Anakin down several floors and outside to one of the balconies of the High Council Tower. It was the same balcony, he realized, where he had once stood with Qui-Gon and debated whether the boy they had picked up from Tatooine should become a Jedi.  _You still have much to learn, Obi-Wan_ , Qui-Gon had told him then, and Obi-Wan had no doubt that it was still true.

But now Anakin Skywalker's future with the Jedi Order was at stake once again, so Obi-Wan turned his mind to focus on the present. He was still shaken by Anakin's revelation—though he'd always suspected there was  _something_ Anakin was hiding about the events surrounding his mother's death, he'd never come close to suspecting the truth. And he hadn't wanted to press his apprentice on something that was so obviously upsetting him—in retrospect, quite a large mistake.

"Why didn't you tell me about what you had done?" he asked, when Anakin's trembling had stopped and it was clear he had recovered from his breakdown inside the Council chamber. "I wouldn't have...I would have  _helped_  you, Anakin."

Standing with his hands on the railing, staring out at the late afternoon sun, Anakin didn't look at him. "I know," he said after a moment. "I know that now."

Implying that he hadn't known it  _then_. And that—that was Obi-Wan's own fault. Caught up in his promise to Qui-Gon to  _train the boy_ , to make Anakin into the best Jedi he could be, he'd lost sight of the bigger picture. It wasn't until after Anakin's Knighting that Obi-Wan had started to truly understand that he needn't stamp down on all of his friend's unorthodox traits in order to help him, that sometimes it was Anakin's very passion and loyalty that made him the great Jedi he was.

And by then, of course, it had been...not  _too late_ , Obi-Wan still didn't believe it was too late. But later than it ought to have been. "I'm sorry," he voiced aloud, coming to stand next to Anakin. "I was not as emotionally available to you as I should have been." It wasn't as though he hadn't known Anakin had been hit hard by his mother's death. And though he'd tried his best to help Anakin through it, he'd also made a point not to press him if he didn't want to talk, to give him space to work through the grief—the same space Obi-Wan himself had needed and wanted after Qui-Gon's death.

But Anakin, of course, wasn't him. Obi-Wan's apprentice had always needed to talk, to express his emotions in order to work through them. In retrospect, his uncharacteristic silence after Shmi's death should have been a warning sign that there was more going on than the obvious. At the time, Obi-Wan had assumed it had been the loss of his arm and his mother. Clearly, he'd been wrong.

"It's okay," Anakin replied, glancing over at him. "You shouldn't be the one apologizing. I think...I think that's supposed to be my role, these days."

"All the more reason for me to set a good example." He was glad Anakin was taking responsibility for his action, but at the same time, the defeated tone in his friend's voice concerned him. "You aren't the only one who's made mistakes, Anakin. Far from it."

Anakin nodded. "Thank you, Master." He turned to face Obi-Wan fully. "I...I should have told you about the Tusken thing, though. Part of me wanted to at the time, but I was...conflicted."

And so he'd gone to Palpatine instead, where he'd known he'd get validation. "I understand," Obi-Wan told him, then hesitated. "Anakin... _do_  you regret killing them?" His frantic explanation in the Council chambers had suggested he didn't, but Obi-Wan suspected that Anakin had been trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

Anakin considered the question for a moment. "I...yes and no," he said after a long pause. "I mean, sometimes I don't. When I think about the effect of what I did—people really are safer now that that tribe of Tuskens can't hurt them. My stepfamily isn't in danger from them anymore, y'know?" He looked back out over the railing. "But when I think about what I actually  _did_...the children…" He broke off, shuddering. "Then I regret it, sometimes."

 _Children_. Force. Anakin had said he'd wiped out the whole village, but that aspect of it hadn't really sunk in until now. "I see." Something for them to discuss later, when they had more time—it wasn't a conversation Obi-Wan wanted to rush. "Are you ready to go back and talk to the Council?"

Anakin pulled his cloak more tightly around himself. "A few more minutes," he said, and Obi-Wan nodded. In companionable silence, they looked back out over the bustling city below.

* * *

 Anakin could sense tension from the moment he and Obi-Wan stepped back into the Council chambers. Padmé was standing in the center of the room, arms folded across her chest.

"Everything okay?" he asked quietly as he moved to stand by her side.

"Just some aggressive negotiations," she muttered back, and Anakin bit back a grin despite the seriousness of the situation. He wished he'd been around to see  _that._

"Free to go, you are, Senator Amidala," Yoda announced once Obi-Wan had returned to his seat. "Very...informative, your testimony was."

Padmé glanced at Anakin. "Want me to stay?"

He shook his head. "You don't have to." At this point, he was tired enough that he just wanted to answer the Council's questions and get it over with.

"I should probably get back to the Senate," she admitted. "I'll see you tonight."

He watched her go, then turned back to face Yoda as was traditional. "Was there something else you needed to ask?" The question came out sounding more impatient than he'd intended it to, but he couldn't see what else they would need to make a decision. Either they would decide he was too dangerous to keep around, or they wouldn't, and honestly, he wasn't sure which choice would be for the better.

"Almost finished, we are," Yoda told him. "But one matter there is that still needs clarification. Never told us, you did, what you want from this trial." Stang, he'd hoped they wouldn't notice that, because he  _still_  wasn't prepared to answer. "Long before the present crisis, difficulties you have had with our way of life. Dissatisfaction, hmm?"

There was no way to deny it. Anakin shifted uncomfortably, not replying.

"Great confusion I sense in you, young Skywalker." Yoda shook his head from side to side. "Never content. Always wanting more. At peace with yourself, you are not. Decided you did to seek out the dark side, even if a choice influenced by another it was. Still desire the power of the Sith, do you?"

"No!" That, at least, was true. Chasing after the power of the dark side had only caused pain, had nearly ripped the people he loved away from him. If he had followed Palpatine, he would have lost  _everything._  "I don't want to seek out the dark side again." A thought came to his head unbidden, a memory.  _There are some who seek out darkness to gain powers. They are fools...the most important darkness lies within._ What if Rivan was right? What if it was too  _late_  to reject the dark side, now that he'd accepted it once? If after so many years of anger, of fear, of Palpatine, it just...lay within, waiting. Insidious.

He shivered at the idea.

"But desire to be a Jedi, do you? Resentful of this Council, you have been. Deceptive. Willing are you to make a new commitment?"

"My commitment is to my family," Anakin answered automatically. But if that weren't an issue, if they would let him be a Jedi despite his marriage…He looked over at Obi-Wan, but his friend's face was carefully neutral.

Anakin gave the only true answer he could. "Other than that, I don't know, Master Yoda."

Being a Jedi had been his dream since long before Qui-Gon had arrived on Tatooine. He'd worked so  _hard_  to prove to everyone who had doubted him from the moment he'd arrived at the Temple that he could be just as good as they were, despite his childhood outside the Temple. Even now, he wanted to show them that being with Padme wouldn't stop him—that attachment and Jedi duty weren't mutually exclusive, not always.

But it was clear that the Council—with the exception of Obi-Wan—didn't trust him. Not that he could blame them after the night before, but they had  _never_  trusted him even before that. Not really, not the same way they trusted other Jedi. If he stayed, he would be even more of an outsider than he'd been for the past thirteen years.

And yet, where else could he go? Taking a break, to be with Padme and raise the baby and nothing else, sounded appealing, but not forever. He couldn't picture himself in another career—nothing else could offer the same thrills, the same opportunities to use his skills to help the people of the galaxy in the ways that other beings just couldn't. His life was with the Jedi. "I don't know," he repeated helplessly. "Does it matter right now? You haven't even decided if I'll be expelled or not yet."

Yoda hopped out of his chair and walked up to him. "Your wishes—control you, they seem to, so matter they do! Who are you, young Skywalker?"

_I don't know. I don't know._

"Make a decision, you must," Yoda said, wagging a finger. "And soon, hmm?"

"I'll try to figure it out," Anakin replied."

Yoda whacked his legs with his gimmer stick.  _Ow,_  Anakin thought, and,  _should have seen that one coming._

"There is no try! Search within yourself you must, and listen to the Force's guidance."

Anakin rubbed his shins. "I  _will_  figure it out."

"Good." Yoda hobbled back to his seat. "Dismissed, you are. Over this meeting is—meditate and reflect on what to do with you individually we all will, while dealing with the returning Jedi. Tomorrow morning, when time we have had to listen to the Force, meet this Council will once again to debate and decide your fate."

Anakin nodded. Tomorrow. It seemed both too soon and not soon enough, for a decision that would shape his entire future.

But now it was entirely out of his hands. For once, the idea didn't really bother him.

He waited for Obi-Wan to stand and join him as the rest of the room filed out the door. "Know which way you're going to vote, Master?" he asked, mostly joking.

"Oh, to expel you," Obi-Wan replied, deadpan. Then, "Of course I'll vote to give you a second chance, Anakin. You recognize your mistakes, and you're willing to make an effort. That's all I care about."

"I knew you'd say that." Well, he'd been almost sure. "Thank you. And I  _am_ willing to make an effort." Whether he stayed with the Jedi or not, he did want to change—to learn to control himself. He didn't want to push Padme or Obi-Wan away with a single reckless decision as he nearly had the night before.

Of course, making an effort was no guarantee of success.  _The most important darkness lies within…_

"I know you are," Obi-Wan told him. "And...I will make an effort as well. To be more understanding."

And that...that meant a lot. If there was still darkness lurking within his soul, Obi-Wan would be the first person he'd want around to help him with it. "Thanks," he said again. And with that, they exited the Council Chambers, together.


	17. Judgment (part 1)

As dawn broke over Coruscant on the day of the final debate over the fate of Anakin Skywalker, two of the Jedi Order's senior Masters shared tea and troubles in preparation for what was looking to be yet another difficult day in a span of seemingly unending difficult days.

"I'm not looking forward to this," admitted Mace Windu from his seat upon one of the meditation pads in Yoda's personal chambers. "The boy is  _dangerous_ , and that may not change no matter how we vote."

"Dangerous, hmm?" replied his companion. "Faced a great choice, young Anakin has, and more decisions lie ahead of him. Dangerous, yes, but known that we always have. But to whom is the greatest danger?"

Mace blinked. "To  _everyone,_ I would think, if he continues to be drawn to the dark side. He's the Chosen One; the whole galaxy would feel the fallout if he ever turned." He was used to the Grand Master's riddles, and knew the obvious answer was almost never the correct one—it was probably going to be  _to himself,_ or something like that—but experience also had taught him it was best to say what he was really thinking when talking to Yoda.

"A risk to the galaxy if he fell, that is true. With his power, hurt many people he could." Yoda shook his head. "But more than one type of  _danger_ there is. Heard, have you, all the talk surrounding young Skywalker from his fellow Jedi?"

"I've heard seasoned Masters gossiping like younglings, if that's what you mean. And the actual younglings are just as bad. But I'd thought we'd agreed not to suppress knowledge of what happened?" There was too much risk: if Skywalker  _did_  go dark, the Jedi around him needed to be prepared. The Padawan Bene's mistake in assuming Anakin had more privileges than he did had been one thing; nobody wanted another well-meaning Jedi to trust the boy if it turned out he couldn't earn it. "Besides, he killed a  _Sith Lord_ -rumors were inevitable, and that's not even taking into account the fact that he and Amidala haven't exactly been hiding their relationship."

"Yes," murmured Yoda. "Killed a Sith Lord, he did. Very impressive, especially to our Order's younger members, hmm? A hero to many, Skywalker is."

Mace frowned. "You think he could be a corrupting influence, even if he  _doesn't_  actually fall? But not if everyone knows to be wary of the example he sets—that was the point of letting the rest of the Temple become aware of what happened in Palpatine's office, wasn't it?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps." Yoda stood and moved to stand in the light filtering in through one of the windows. "But difficult it can be to accept such a truth, when the one it concerns is so deeply admired. With his respect for Palpatine, young Skywalker himself fell into that trap, hmm? And now killed two Sith he has, and brought balance to the Force. Not easy it will be for some to see his faults as well, particularly when too young to understand the danger of the dark side are the ones who desire to be like their idol."

It was true—though Skywalker's near-fall had been the subject of much quietly alarmed conversation among the surviving Knights and Masters, it was mostly the boy's defeat of Dooku and Palpatine that Mace had overheard talk of from the younglings and junior Padawans. And while he was inclined to think that a little youthful hero-worship wasn't likely to be harmful, Yoda had a point that such a thing had indeed been very dangerous in the case of Skywalker and Palpatine. "What exactly is it you fear?" he asked. "That Anakin will unwittingly set a bad example through his marriage and defiance of our ways, or that he'll embrace the dark side fully and consciously drag others down with him?"

"Know what to dread, I do not," admitted Yoda. "Nothing specific have I foreseen. But much confusion I still sense in him; much fear, and much anger. A good combination, that is not."

No kidding. "Do you think you  _would_  sense it? If he was about to fall again, I mean." Nobody had seen it coming this time, but in hindsight, there  _had_ been warning signs—his uncharacteristic aggression before the Council when he'd been denied Mastery, his escapades into the Archives, the vortex of misery and desperation that had swirled around him when he'd been caught. Was it overconfidence to believe they would notice if Skywalker started spiraling out of control once more?

Of course, if he were expelled, there was  _no_  possibility that they would notice anything out of the ordinary...

"Unsure, I am." Yoda settled back down on the meditation pad, folding his legs into a meditative position. "Much clearer is the Force now than it was just days ago, yet still clouded it is around young Skywalker. Impossible it is to tell if his commitment to the light will last."

Well. That wasn't exactly heartening, not that Mace had expected much else. "We need to keep a close eye on the boy," he commented. "He seemed sincere enough when he claimed to no longer desire the power of the Sith, but that doesn't mean the dark side won't continue to tempt him in the future."

Yoda looked at him. "Believe he should stay in the Order, then, do you? Ruled by emotions, he is, and correct was Amidala when she told us that let go of his attachment to her he will not—a mindset not befitting of a Jedi."

"I don't think we can afford the privilege of making this choice based on what's  _befitting of a Jedi,_ " said Mace. "Don't get me wrong; between what Skywalker's done in the past few days and what he's admitted to doing before that, by all rights he should be expelled ten times over. But if he's still in  _any_ danger of falling, then our most pressing duty is to make sure that never happens—or at least that we're in a position to take action immediately if it does. He's too much of a risk to be let go."

Yoda looked thoughtful. "Yet had a point Amidala did when she pointed out that her influence, and Obi-Wan's, kept him from going through with his decision," he mused. "So sure are you that staying with the Order is young Anakin's best hope?"

Mace considered it. "Honestly, I am. I won't deny that we've made some mistakes with how we handled Skywalker, but cutting him loose at this point could just make things worse. Yoda, you and I have both seen too many Jedi lost to the dark." Too many friends. "Dooku joined the Sith after leaving the Order; Sora Bulq turned during his disappearance after Geonosis, and Depa…" Depa Billaba, Mace's own former Padawan. Though Dooku and Sora had both been good friends of his,  _her_ turn to the dark side had hurt him more than the others combined. "Depa fell while out of contact with us at Haruun Kal. We cannot afford to repeat the mistakes of the past; Anakin should stay  _here._ "

It wasn't that he trusted Skywalker. Maybe the boy was serious about his return to the light; maybe not. It wasn't something Mace wanted to take a chance with: he, of all people, had seen where the dark side could lead. Destruction. Death. Betrayal. The  _jungle._

"True," murmured Yoda. "Yet if taught me anything my centuries of life have, it's that always  _new_  mistakes to make, there are. Careful we must be."

Mace certainly wasn't going to argue with  _that._

* * *

Anakin was already awake when he heard the knock. Pressing the door release, he was unsurprised to see Obi-Wan standing in the hallway.

He stepped backward to allow the other man entrance to his quarters. "Morning, Master. Come on in."

"I don't have much time to talk," Obi-Wan admitted, following him in. "There's only about half an hour before the Council will convene, but I thought I'd come see how you were doing."

"I'm okay," Anakin told him. "Padmé's still asleep in the bedroom, though, so keep your voice down. She was at the Senate late last night again." It was still a little strange to have Padmé staying at  _his_  place instead of the other way around.

Obi-Wan nodded. "It is still early. I wasn't even sure  _you'd_ be awake yet." He hesitated, then fixed Anakin with a meaningful look. "Did you...ah, sleep all right?"

Anakin knew what he was really asking. "I didn't have any dreams about Padmé." There had been a few nightmares; in one of them, the reason he'd woken and gotten up at this young hour, he'd been  _with_ the clones that stormed the Temple. But none of them had been of Padmé's death, and none of them had that elusive quality of  _warning_ , of reality, that had been there for the dreams of Padmé and his mother that he now associated with prophetic visions. "I'm not sure what that means."

Obi-Wan sat down on the couch beside him. "Likely, that she isn't in any danger anymore. I had wondered if her death was to be somehow arranged by the Sith, to clear the way for absolute power in the Chancellor's office, even before we discovered Palpatine himself was Sidious. It's entirely possible that she would have died by his hand if you hadn't killed him."

"That doesn't make any sense," Anakin protested. "Palpatine was convincing me to join him by promising to  _save_  her-okay, maybe he didn't quite know how to do it, but he clearly knew how much she means to me. He wouldn't have risked killing her, not if it could have turned me against him. Besides, how can you arrange for someone to die in childbirth?"

"I don't know," admitted Obi-Wan. "Perhaps it wouldn't have been on purpose-there are many reasons why a galaxy ruled by a Sith would have been more dangerous for Padmé. If she'd been forced to flee Coruscant and been somewhere without good medical facilities, for example." He paused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "There is another possibility. Anakin, I sensed a dark presence when you had a nightmare in the Halls of Healing. It could have been that Palpatine somehow  _gave_ you the visions, in order to drive you to join him. They may not have been genuine to begin with."

Anakin shook his head. "I don't think so. They  _felt_  real, Obi-Wan. They felt just like the ones about, about Mom." Except...something was niggling at the back of his mind, something that didn't quite fit. He stood up, troubled, and began to pace.

"What?" Obi-Wan asked him, rising to his feet. "Anakin, what is it?"

"I never told him," Anakin said quietly, an icy, queasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. "I  _never told Palpatine_  what I dreamed about. He just...already knew that I wanted to save Padmé and the baby." At the time, he hadn't questioned it. His mind had been so consumed with thoughts of Padmé's death and how to prevent it that Palpatine's statement of  _'Yes, Anakin, I can save your wife_ ' hadn't even registered as out of place. But in hindsight, he'd never even mentioned that he was having visions, let alone what they were about.

Obi-Wan didn't appear surprised by the revelation. He only nodded, stroking his beard. "That makes sense. Palpatine  _must_  have been somehow responsible for the visions, Anakin—between that and the fact that they've stopped after his death. Either he planted them, or Padmé would have died in his rise to power. I doubt she's still in any danger."

"I wish I could believe that." But he couldn't not entirely, and even if he wasn't going to go behind her back to find ways to keep her alive, he also wasn't going to just sit around and do  _nothing_  if there was still a chance she was in danger. "Plus, I mean, Palpatine also knew we were married without me ever telling him. So maybe he could just read my mind or something like that." Anakin shivered at the thought. Common Jedi wisdom held that the Force could be used to pick up surface emotions, but not entire thoughts or information. But then, common Jedi wisdom  _also_ held that someone corrupted by the dark side would be obvious in the Force as such, and look how long Palpatine had been able to conceal his true nature and power... "Or maybe the strength of the dark side around him just encouraged the visions to occur. Doesn't mean the future I saw isn't a real possibility."

Obi-Wan heaved a sigh. "I suppose we'll never know for sure," he admitted. "And of course Padmé should receive extra medical attention, just in case. But Anakin, if the tests  _do_ show that she'll be fine, please at least consider the possibility that they are correct."

He honestly wasn't sure what he'd do if the Healers couldn't find anything wrong. On the one hand, Obi-Wan was right that the fact that the visions had stopped could easily mean that-for whatever reason-Padmé was no longer in danger. On the other, nobody could  _prove_  that she was safe. Yet if she wasn't, he didn't know what else he could do-all of his attempts until now had just made things worse. "I'll...I'll try. We'll see what the healers say."

"When are you going to see them?" asked Obi-Wan.

"As soon as she gets up, probably" Anakin replied. "She said she had some important meetings later, so I think she wants to get it over with as soon as possible." She hadn't told him much of what was currently going on at the Senate, having gotten back late the night before, but he got the impression that between Palpatine's betrayal and the new potential for negotiations with the Separatists now that Dooku and Grievous were dead-made more complicated by the fact nearly the entire Republic army had gone AWOL-it was a nightmare. And, apparently the Senate was going to start the formal investigation into Palpatine. Anakin wondered how much they'd be able to unearth, given how careful the man had always been.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Good," he said. "Give her my best, and let me know how it goes. I'm not sure how long the Council meeting will last before we come to a decision, but take all the time you need at the Healers."

If the meeting  _did_  run short, Anakin presumed that wouldn't bode well for his future in the Order-he couldn't imagine the Council making a quick decision to do anything but expel him. Still, no use worrying about it now. "Thank you, Master." Though, where would he and Obi-Wan stand, if they  _did_  force him out?

"I'll see you later, then," Obi-Wan told him, and Anakin couldn't help but wonder if anything would have changed between them when he did.

* * *

"Discuss, we must, the future of Anakin Skywalker," Yoda declared as soon as everyone was seated, and if nothing else Tholme supposed he could appreciate the straightforwardness of it. Being on the Council had never been his particular ambition; yet, when offered a seat, he had found himself unable to refuse the duty in such a time of crisis.

This Council meeting was going to be different from the others he'd attended over the past two days. Cataloguing lives lost and forming rescue plans for the stranded was one thing—though by no means  _easy_ , at least there tended to be a clear moral direction. But today they would be deciding the future of a young man, and the right answer was by no means obvious.

At least, not to him. He wasn't surprised, though—and neither, he suspected, was anybody else—when Obi-Wan Kenobi cleared his throat and was the first to begin to speak.

"I'm not going to try to excuse Anakin's actions," Kenobi started. "We're all aware of the poor choices he's made, and it would be foolish to ignore them. But expelling him is  _not_ the answer—if he's genuine about wanting to stay away from the dark side, and he is, then he deserves our support. Not our rejection. Palpatine was able to manipulate him so easily in no small part because of  _our_  treatment of him, and I think we should learn from that mistake."

"We treated him like any other Jedi," said Mace Windu. And then, clearly rethinking, "Or at least, how we  _would_  have treated any other Jedi who behaved the same way he always has."

Tholme had never had a chance to work with Skywalker personally, but he'd heard enough of the stories to know him by reputation. And what an interesting reputation it was-disobedient, brave, talented, emotional, arrogant, defiant, heroic, reckless. Ask ten people about Anakin Skywalker, and you'd get ten different answers.

It made it hard to tell if Mace's assertion was correct-Tholme knew that the young man in question had been in frequent trouble with the Council, but he had no idea how much of it had been deserved. Still, if he'd exhibited anything  _close_  to the rule-breaking he'd shown in the past few days…

"I think that's where we went wrong," Obi-Wan argued. "Precisely; we treated him like any other Jedi. But he  _isn't_ , and he never has been. Not because he's the Chosen One, but because he came from an entirely different background."

Windu raised an eyebrow. "So we should have encouraged his attachments? His disagreements with our way of life? Obi-Wan, isn't that what got us into this mess in the first place?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "It wasn't the attachments themselves. Look: Padmé Amidala is in love with him, just as much as he with her. Yet she would never have made the same choices he nearly did. It's a matter of knowing how to  _handle_  those emotions, and we never gave him the chance to learn to do that." An interesting perspective. Tholme himself had always been of the opinion that relationships-even romantic ones-were not in and of themselves incompatible with the Jedi Code, so long as there was no selfish attachment. T'ra Saa could testify to that…

And yet Skywalker had clearly gone far beyond that point. By all accounts, he  _had_  gotten selfish.

"Where young Skywalker's problems originated, an interesting discussion is," Yoda broke in. "But whether Obi-Wan is right or not, too late to change the past it is. Now decide we must whether to allow Skywalker to remain in our Order."

"If we do allow him to stay, it will matter a great deal whether we decide to acknowledge our failures in how we treated him," replied Obi-Wan. "But I see your point. For the moment, it's a question of if he deserves a second chance. I say he does."

"Do you really think he's rejected the dark side?" asked Coleman Kcaj. "I think it's fair to say he's been dancing with darkness since  _at least_  his massacre of the Tuskens. Can we really expect years of traveling down that path to be reversed so quickly? Or at all?"

"Hold on," Tholme interjected. "We've given that sort of second chance in the past. We gave one to Quinlan." He'd never quite gotten over the guilt for masterminding the plan that had sent his former Padawan towards the dark side-it had been supposed to be a cover to get him close to Dooku, but the situation had spun out of control. Tholme was still grateful that the story hadn't ended there. "And he hasn't made us regret the decision. I'll admit he was never in as deep as Skywalker, but the situations are similar enough."

Tholme wasn't certain that Anakin Skywalker belonged with the Jedi, but it  _did_ seem like a double standard not to at least give him the same chance that Quinlan had gotten.

* * *

Halfway across the galaxy on the Outer Rim planet of Saleucami, Stass Allie rested against one of the planet's characteristic bulbous trees. She had been on the move for the better part of thirty-six hours—the farther away from the Republic base she could get, the safer she would be from the clones.

Or so she hoped.

But this morning she had paused her journey. Though she knew it would have been understood if she had recused herself from her Council duties until a rescue attempt could be made, this was one meeting she hadn't wanted to miss.

Now, she frowned at what she was hearing. "I'm not sure the situations  _are_  similar. Quinlan Vos began seeking darkness as part of a mission; Anakin, on his own. Even when Quinlan was working for Dooku, he was still determined to find and kill the other Sith—Anakin was prepared to destroy the  _Jedi_. And most importantly, I don't think Anakin's proven he's rejected the reasons that led him to the dark side in the first place. He's practically flaunting his attachment to Amidala, for starters."

"His attachment to Padmé was part of what  _stopped_  him from falling," reminded Obi-Wan. It was a point that had been made in the previous day's session as well, and to be honest, she still wasn't entirely certain what to think of it. What Amidala's net influence on Skywalker had been was ambiguous.

But there were some things that weren't ambiguous. "The Code forbids attachment. He has broken that rule, and made the choice to continue to break it. Whether that will lead him to darkness, I cannot predict, but he cannot claim to truly be a Jedi so long as his marriage continues."

"His marriage has been present for three years," Shaak pointed out. "In that time, he's defeated two Sith, saved Force-known how many lives in the war, and brought balance to the Force. Can we really say he wasn't  _truly_  a Jedi?"

Stass shook her head. "Look," she said. "It's not that I don't feel sympathy for Anakin. I do—there's no denying that Palpatine forced him into a corner. But if he's not compatible with the Order, then for him to stay can only bring him pain to him and to us all." She closed her eyes, sighing. "We must expel him. We have no choice."

* * *

"Both babies appear to be in perfect health," said Vokara Che, "and I have found no risk factors associated with birth complications. I expect that they shall be born in a few weeks to a month from now." Her tone, which somehow managed to simultaneously convey both reassurance and a distaste for the situation of the two people sitting in front of her with their hands clasped tightly together, was entirely lost on its recipients.

"Excuse me." Padmé Amidala's voice was unnaturally calm. "It's just that I could swear you said  _both_ babies _..._ "

* * *

Mace rubbed his forehead. He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on: apparently, even the death of Sidious hadn't unclouded the Force enough to make its guidance clear on the matter. In decades past, before the Sith had risen to power, it hadn't been uncommon for the Council to be unanimous on important matters.

But no longer. "I think we do have a choice," he said. "And I sense that a great deal rests on it. Skywalker is still the Chosen One; what happens to him will affect the galaxy." It was, perhaps, more accurate to use the word  _see_ rather than  _sense._ One look at Anakin Skywalker had shown him that the boy was still a shatterpoint— _the_  shatterpoint, the focal point of connections and faultlines that wove the galaxy together. "If we allow him to remain a Jedi, we can keep a closer watch on him than if he were to be expelled."

" _You_  think we should let him stay?" Plo Koon asked, sounding surprised. "Do you really think he can be trusted enough to be in the Temple?"

"It's not a matter of  _trust_ ," snapped Mace. His supply of that particular quality had eroded over the course of the war. Watching star systems turn on their neighbors, discovering that the Republic's own leader had been a Sith from the beginning, being stabbed through the gut with the lightsaber of the woman who had been like a daughter to him...

No, trust was something he had learned he couldn't afford. "If he stays a Jedi, we'll have oversight over him. If he starts to go dark again, this time we'll be able to see warning signs. We'll have control over the consequences he faces for what he's done."

"Hmm." Yoda shook his head. "Not sure am I if that is a good course of action. If not compatible with the life of a Jedi is Anakin, then only harm can keeping him here continue to bring, to him and to us."

"I agree with Yoda," said Coleman Kcaj. "Between his wife and his temperament, Skywalker has shown he has no place among the Jedi. He'd probably be happier outside the Order anyways."

"Surely it's up to  _Anakin_  to decide where he'll be happier," Obi-Wan interjected. "We're here to decide if he's even allowed to stay, not to try to read his mind."

"Anakin's decision-making skills have not shown themselves to be impressive of late," Luminara reminded him. "I agree with Mace. He should stay with us, under strict oversight."

"But mightn't he be a bad influence on other Jedi, if he stays?" asked Stass. "He's  _married_ , and everything else he's done..." She shook her head.

Mace had been considering that ever since his earlier conversation with Yoda, and really, there was only one conclusion. "Not if the other punishments we place on him are drastic enough that nobody wants to follow his example."

"That's almost a worse idea than expelling him!" Obi-Wan again. Mace still wasn't sure whether the younger Master's input was  _more_  valuable than any other's in this matter, due to his experience with Skywalker, or  _less,_ due to his attachment. One the one hand, it was Obi-Wan's actions that had stopped the boy from falling. On the other, he had been blind to Skywalker's intentions until the very last moment. "I'm not saying there shouldn't be consequences," Obi-Wan continued. "Anakin knows what he did was wrong. But don't forget that it was his conflict with and distrust of this Council that pushed him towards Palpatine in the first place. He needs help, not punishment for the sake of punishment!"

For a moment, silence descended over the chambers. Then, "I  _still_ think we just ought to expel him," muttered Kcaj, and Stass nodded.

Mace sighed. "Let's take it to a vote."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N. Expect Part 2 sometime in the next couple of days, and, as always, thanks for reading!


	18. Judgment (part 2)

"Wow. Twins." Anakin sounded stunned, like he couldn't quite believe it. "Two of them. That's  _great._ " They had returned to his quarters once the healers had finished checking Padmé over, running all the tests that her med-droid had and several more.

"That is usually what 'twins' means," Padmé replied, but she couldn't help but smile. "Anyways, I'm glad that was the only unexpected news." She hadn't really anticipated that they'd find anything medically wrong with her, but she also wasn't foolish enough to discount Anakin's visions entirely when he'd been right in the past. It was nice to get confirmation from a living healer of what the med-droid had been telling her.

"Me, too," Anakin said fervently. "I just really hope Master Che is right. She  _is_ a good healer..."

He still didn't sound entirely convinced, and Padmé sighed. She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "She's right. And if she's not, sitting here and worrying isn't going to help." Cupping his chin in one hand, she guided him to face her. "Just promise me you won't try to  _do_  anything else about it without my permission."

Anakin looked her in the eyes. "I promise, Padmé. But keep checking in with the healers, yeah?"

It seemed a reasonable enough precaution under the circumstances. "I will," she affirmed, relieved. Anakin could be evasive, sometimes, but she'd never known him to break a direct promise. Not intentionally, at least. "I know you worry about me, Anakin, but I can take care of myself."

Anakin glanced down at the table between them, biting his lip. "I know that." He looked back up at her. "You're an amazing woman, Padmé; that's why I fell in love with you in the first place. But I can't just...force myself to stop worrying. Just because the dreams aren't coming anymore doesn't mean I can stop them from replaying in my head."

Padmé reached across the table to clasp his hand. "The problem isn't when you worry." Though she wished dearly there was a way to give him peace of mind. "It's when you try to prevent your fears from coming true by making choices that are going to affect me without asking me first."

Anakin stood up from the table, pulling his hand away. "Haven't we had this conversation? I said I promise not to do anything about it without your permission! Don't you trust me?"

Padmé stood up as well, folding her arms. "I know you promised. But I'm talking about more than this one situation." She hadn't meant to start this conversation so soon—she'd wanted to wait to see how the issues between Anakin and the Jedi would be resolved—but it had to happen at some point. "It's also about..." She cast around in her mind, trying to find the right way to explain. "That time with Rush Clovis. You practically jumped down my throat just because you found out I was working with him, and then you beat him up even after I told you to stop."

"I turned out to be right, though," Anakin pointed out. "He was a  _Separatist._  A traitor."

"That isn't the point," Padmé snapped. Then, regulating her tone with an effort, "The point is that you didn't  _trust_  me and you didn't  _listen_  to me, and that's not how this needs to work."

" 'This marriage is not a marriage' " he quoted her quietly, turning away. "Is that still what you think? Do you still...not feel safe?"

Padmé stared at him for a moment—was he honestly insecure about that, after everything that had happened? "Anakin. I wouldn't  _be_  here if I didn't think our marriage could work out. I wouldn't be trying to help you if I didn't love you so much." It was true, their relationship had problems—that had become clear over the past week. She walked up to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind. "I want us both to be happy, but that means working things out as a couple. Not pretending everything is fine when it's not."

Anakin turned around. "Everything had been fine for nearly three years," he pointed out. "Uh, Clovis thing excepted, I mean. I know I made some mistakes, with him and Palpatine and everything, but we've been happy together other than that. Haven't we?" He sounded uncertain.

"We have, but…" She shook her head. "Three years in which we barely ever saw each other. Now that the war is over, and now that we don't have to keep our relationship secret, things need to be different." If there's anything this incident had shown her, it was that she didn't  _know_  Anakin quite like she'd thought she had. And she still loved him—that would never change—but it had never quite struck her until now how little time they'd truly had together to get to know each other, both before their wedding, and in the time since.

"If the Jedi kick me out, we'll have all the time in the galaxy," Anakin muttered. He glanced up at her, rubbing his neck. "Um, different how? Aside from me not making decisions that are gonna impact you without asking first, I mean."

"We'll figure it out," said Padmé. "There isn't some...checklist on how to be married." She almost wished there were; when it came to romance, she was nearly as inexperienced as Anakin. Of course, had such a thing existed, it probably wouldn't cover situations like  _how to deal with visions of your spouse's death_ or  _maintaining a marriage when one person is a member of a monastic order_ or  _dealing with relationship problems when the entire government has just been thrown into chaos._ "We just need to learn to  _listen_ to each other. I didn't take your fears over the visions as seriously as I could have, and I'm sorry for that." She was increasingly certain that the visions themselves hadn't been true, but his  _fear_...that had been as real a danger than any childbirth. "But it needs to be a two-way street. If you're in trouble, tell me. Or Obi-Wan. Or both of us. Don't wait until you're in too deep."

Anakin nodded. "I just don't like to worry you, I guess," he admitted.

"I can handle it," Padmé told him. "You don't have to protect me from everything, remember? I'm not made of glass, Anakin."

"No," he said slowly. "You're not."

* * *

By the time the summons from Obi-Wan came fifteen minutes later, Padmé had already returned to the Senate. For all that Anakin had decided not to worry about it the day before, he couldn't help but feel the weight of every step he took towards the Council chamber. Obi-Wan's voice had been unreadable, as usual; he had no idea what they were going to say.

What if he was expelled? What would he do then? His hands sweated. What if he  _wasn't_ expelled? What  _then_? Live in a Temple in which the vast majority of the inhabitants distrusted him? And it wasn't as though he could blame them.

Down a corridor and up a lift to the top of the High Council Tower. He'd hadn't been this nervous going in front of the Council since he was nine, and even then, at least he'd known what he wanted. Life had been a lot simpler thirteen years ago, and that was saying something.

The doors opened in front of him, and he stepped through. Nine Council members watched him as he walked over and stood in the middle of the room.

"Anakin Skywalker," said Yoda, face impassive. "Come to a decision, the Council has."

"You have broken some of the most sacred tenets of our Order," added Windu. "You have trespassed where you were not supposed to go. You have collaborated with our enemy and agreed to our destruction." He paused before continuing: "For these actions, you will  _not_  be expelled."

Anakin let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. Automatically, he glanced over at Obi-Wan, who gave him a quick smile.

"Understand that your position as a Jedi is conditional," continued Windu. "You are being placed under probation, and the Council reserves the right to reverse our decision and expel you should you fail to meet our terms, which are as follows. Until your probation is lifted—and don't expect it to be anytime soon—you must always be accompanied by a Master on any mission you go on."

That wasn't unexpected, and nor, thought Anakin as he looked over at Obi-Wan again, would it necessarily be a bad thing.

"You are officially stripped of your seat on this Council," Windu went on.  _No kidding._  "You will be assigned to a mind-healer and are expected to meet with them at least every two weeks for the indefinite future. You are  _eternally_  forbidden from entering the Holocron Vault without the supervision of at least two Masters, no matter what rank you may attain, and under no circumstances or amount of supervision will you be ever allowed into the Sith Vault. Any time you enter the general Archives for  _any_  reason, you are required to alert Madame Nu or the currently supervising archivist of your presence and purpose. You will not be allowed to instruct younglings under the age of twelve without another adult Jedi present."

"I understand," Anakin said.

"You should be aware that the fact that we are allowing you to remain does not imply approval of your... _relationship_...with Senator Amidala. Though you may remain a Jedi despite your marriage, understand that the amount that your attachment has been clouding your judgment makes it extremely unlikely that you will be made a Master as long as you continue to pursue this relationship."

And that, more than anything else, hurt. Anakin's hands clenched in his robes. Okay, sure, he hadn't exactly been expecting them to promote him after he'd almost turned to the dark side. But to imply he wouldn't  _ever_ be made a Master, just because of Padmé? Even if he did learn to control his anger and resist the dark side? Windu hadn't actually said the word "never," but his feelings on the matter were clear.

"I understand," he repeated through gritted teeth.

Windu raised an eyebrow. "Furthermore, know that you are out of second chances. If your rule-breaking continues on the scale that it's escalated to in the past week, we will have no choice but to expel you. Smaller infractions will also be taken more seriously than they have in the past."

He was getting the picture: they didn't trust him. At all.

"Think that we do not trust you, you should not." Force, he really hated when Yoda did that. "Believe that you are serious about wanting to change, we do. But a difference there is between  _wanting_  and  _being able to_ , hmm?" It was exactly what Anakin had been thinking since he'd left Palpatine's office, so he could only nod in response. "Clouded your future is to us. Yet help you if you ask, we will. If prove your commitment to the light you do, perhaps someday we will lighten these restrictions." Windu shifted in his chair at those words, and Anakin got the impression he wasn't happy with the idea. "But until then, cautious we must be. An uncertain path you still walk, yes?"

"Yes," Anakin admitted. "I understand." He meant it slightly more than he had the last time.

"Very good," said Yoda. "Then dismissed you are."

* * *

"Well, at least you aren't expelled," Padmé said when he told her of the verdict.

He sighed. "I guess it's a good thing."

"You guess?" Padmé asked. "Have you still not decided if you want to stay with the Order?"

"No, I haven't." He'd been thinking about it in the hours since the meeting was ended, and he still hadn't come to a decision by the time Padmé had finally returned.

She fixed him with a look. "Because you don't know if you want to be a Jedi, or because you don't like all the new restrictions they're putting on you?"

Anakin considered for a minute. "I get why they had to do it. I get  _why_ they can't trust me, I mean." These days, he didn't even entirely trust himself. "But it makes me wonder if things between me and the Council are too broken to be fixed, you know? Obi-Wan excepted, of course."

"They must think it can be fixed," she pointed out. "If they voted to keep you around."

He glanced at her. "So, you think I should stay?"

Padmé bit her lip. "I think...I don't want you to rush into a decision," she replied carefully. "You've always loved being a Jedi." True. "Even if not all of them trust you—and it's not unreasonable if they don't—I think Obi-Wan and Yoda and the others may still be able to help you. If they're willing to be flexible about letting you be a Jedi  _and_  have a family, even if they don't all like it, you should consider being willing to let them be extra cautious until you've proved yourself. They do have good reason to consider you dangerous, Ani."

He nodded. "I'll think about it. It's not that I want to leave the Jedi, Padmé." It was the only career he could really imagine himself in, and then there was Obi-Wan to think of. "I just...don't know if things are going to get better than they were before." They had never trusted him—would proving himself now really change anything? Assuming he  _could_  manage to prove himself, which wasn't a given with how his control had been lately. And he still didn't think Palpatine could have been entirely wrong in his assessment of the Council. "But I won't rush into a decision, I promise."

"Good," she said, then yawned and sat down on the couch.

Anakin grinned. "Long day at the Senate?" It wasn't even that late; barely mid-evening.

"You have no idea," she told him. "Amedda's trying to pretend he wasn't associated with Palpatine by siding with the Senators pushing for a thorough investigation of Palpatine's crimes—a little more difficult, by the way, because there's a  _Jedi_  team already looking through Palpatine's apartment and office for 'anything that falls under their jurisdiction,' whatever that means. Everyone's arguing over whether to spend resources trying to help stranded Jedi by sending reinforcements, asking for help from locals, or targeting the clones directly with what's left of the army and navy now that they've left. And I don't know if you've been paying attention to the situation with the  _Separatists…_ "

"I haven't, actually. What's going on?" Anakin asked with interest, sitting down next to her.

"Well, on the one hand, with the clones gone it's not as though the Republic has the military strength to keep fighting," she explained. "On the other, we've decimated their leadership. Dooku, Grievous, and Sidious are all dead, and the rest of the Separatist Council is scrambling to pretend they know what they're doing. And morale in the Confederacy is low now that they've learned the man pulling the strings behind their part of the war was actually the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic."

"Huh," Anakin said. He hadn't considered that aspect of it.

"The point of all this," Padmé continued, "is that there's been some talk—entirely behind the scenes, nothing official, you understand—of negotiating a peace treaty. Gunray himself apparently is waving the white flag."

"That's good. Isn't it?"

"Maybe." Padmé sighed. " _I_  think it's...too easy, I suppose. Maybe they're just planning on taking advantage of our political chaos to push for terms that favor them—we're in the weaker position in the short-term; I think the Senate might be willing to concede to some of their original demands just to get the crisis over with. But I can't help feeling there's something else going on."

"They're  _Separatists_ ," he growled. "There's  _always_  something else going on." He clenched his hand into a fist, noticed the look she was giving him, and forced himself to relax. "Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll figure it out," he assured her.

"Hopefully." She shook her head. "I'll be glad when this is all over."

"Me too." Would it  _ever_  be over? He rested his head on her shoulder.

Padmé sat up straight suddenly.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, I just remembered something I've been meaning to do," she answered. "Actually, you should be there, too."

"Sure," said Anakin. "What do you want me to do?"

* * *

"No," said Anakin. "Not tonight. We can do that some other time. We're so busy right now; why don't we wait until things die down a little?"

Padmé rolled her eyes. "Come on, Anakin. Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous!" he protested. "Um, don't you think it would be better to do it yourself? You know, more personal and all that?"

"I can't believe this." Padmé didn't know whether to laugh or smack him. "You've killed two Sith Lords in the past two weeks, and you're afraid of talking to my _parents_?"

"I'm not afraid." He folded his arms across his chest. "I'm just, uh...look, what am I supposed to say to them? I've only met them once; they barely even know me."

"Exactly," Padmé said, getting impatient. "So now they can get to know you. Come on."

"This really can't wait?"

Honestly, Anakin could be so absurd over the smallest things. "I'm going to be giving birth to two children in no more than a month. Now that we don't have to hide our relationship, they deserve to know. They're  _my parents_."

"Yeah," he replied. "Your parents. And you're their daughter, and  _I_  married you and got you pregnant without them even knowing about we were together."

Padmé rolled her eyes again, grabbed his hand, and pulled him in front of the holoconsole. "You're their son-in-law now. They'll be nice." Hopefully. Naboo  _did_  tend to be somewhat traditional when it came to things like this, and Anakin hadn't asked her father for her hand or anything like that...Padmé herself was of the opinion that those customs were antiquated and sexist, but who knew when her father would decide to be all old-fashioned. Well, he'd have to deal with it. "Anyway, they both liked you last time." Quite a lot, from what she recalled, although that might have been at least partially because Anakin had been there to prevent her from being assassinated. She keyed in the frequency to her parents' house.

Anakin stepped quickly back out of the range of the viewer as a holographic image of Jobal Naberrie flickered into existence.  _Coward._  "Hi, Mom," she said. "Do you and Dad have a little while to talk?"

"Padmé!" Her mother sounded surprised, and Padmé remembered guiltily that it had been some months since she'd last commed. "Of course, of course." She looked somewhere off to the side and called, "Ruwee!" then turned back to face Padmé. "How are you? We've been hearing all sorts of awful things on the HoloNet, about Palpatine. You must be so busy."

"I'm fine," Padmé replied, as her father came into view. "Actually, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." Though now that it was coming to the business of actually telling them, she was starting to understand Anakin's nervousness.

"Oh?" Her mother looked at her expectantly.

Padmé took a deep breath. "Mom. Dad. You remember my Jedi bodyguard from a few years ago. Anakin?"

Her parents nodded, exchanging unreadable glances at each other. "He was a nice young man," her mother said slowly. "I've seen him on the HoloNet since." She raised an eyebrow. "He was the one who killed Palpatine, yes?"

"Uh. Yes." Padmé rubbed her neck. "Well, there's something you should know. About him and I."

Her parents looked at each other again, and Padmé wished she could know what they were thinking. "Padmé," her father said after a moment. "I remember the way you two looked at each other, but…" He shook his head. "Aren't Jedi forbidden from that kind of thing?"

"The Jedi Council knows about our relationship," she told them. "They're fine with it." Okay, that last bit was more than a little bit of an exaggeration. Still, no reason to worry them unduly.

"Well, in  _that_  case." Jobal smiled broadly. "Padmé, you know we've always felt you put too much focus on your work—important though it is, dear—at the expense of your own happiness. I'm glad you've found someone."

"Any chance you and he would be able to make a trip over here sometime?" her father asked. "I understand you must both be busy right now, of course. But if you're dating this boy, I'd like to get to know him a little better."

Here it went. "We'd love to come over sometime. But there's something else you should know, and I'm sorry we couldn't tell you earlier." It was Ruwee's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Anakin and I have been together for a few years now, secretly. And we're married."

" _Married?_ And you never told us?" Her father sounded…not angry, exactly, but hurt, and Padmé winced. "For how long?"

"Three years."

"Three  _years_! And you never even  _mentioned…_?!"

"It's not her fault!" Anakin stepped over to stand behind her shoulder, having apparently gotten over whatever shyness had gripped him earlier. "Um, hi, Mr. and Mrs. Naberrie," he added after they startled at his sudden appearance, waving awkwardly. "See, the thing is, the Jedi only gave us permission to be together after some, uh, extenuating circumstances," he said quickly. "And before that, I would have gotten expelled if they'd found out. So we  _had_  to keep it secret, because of me. Don't blame Padmé."

To Padmé 's own recollection, it had been  _Anakin_  who had always gotten impatient with the secrecy, and herself who had insisted that they keep it up and focus on their respective duties. "The point is, we're telling you now," she said. "I'm sorry we had to keep it from you for so long. I didn't want to. But it was necessary."

Her mother let out a long breath. "That's our Padmé," she said in a tone which was both amused and resigned, glancing at her husband. "Always doing what's necessary." She ran a hand through her hair. "Forbidden romance, though, that's not like you…Well, Anakin, I suppose I should welcome you into the family."

"Though now I  _definitely_  want you to come see us in person sometime soon," Ruwee added, still sounding slightly put out, though less so than he had a minute before.

"We will," Padmé said. "I promise. But there's more."

"I don't know how much more I can take," her father responded dryly, then grinned encouragingly at her.

"I'm pregnant."

There was a short, shocked silence. "You're—oh honey, congratulations," her mother said. "How far along? Do you know what gender the baby is yet?"

"About eight months," Padmé responded. "I know I'm having twins, but we decided we wanted the genders to be a surprise." After a moment, she added: "I'm betting that they'll both be boys, though."

"Both be  _girls_ , she means," Anakin cut in, and Padmé rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Padmé, you can't  _possibly_  keep working much longer in your condition. You and Anakin come visit your father and I on Naboo," Jobal begged. "You can give birth to the children here."

" _No!_ " Anakin responded sharply. Padmé elbowed him none too gently as her parents stared at him at the sudden outburst—her mother looked merely surprised, but her father's expression was somewhat suspicious. While she was willing to accept that it might be better for her to stay on Coruscant and take advantage of the state-of-the-art medical facilities of the Jedi Temple, she absolutely did  _not_  want her parents to worry over a danger to her which might be entirely imagined.

"What Anakin means," she explained through gritted teeth, stamping on his foot when he opened his mouth as if to elaborate further, "is that there's just too much going on right now for either of us to drop our work. I'll take a leave from the Senate after the babies are born, and we'll come visit Naboo then."

"Okay…" said Ruwee slowly, still looking at Anakin oddly. "If that's what you insist, though I agree with your mother, Padmé. You work yourself too hard."

"My work is important." The answer came practically by rote—this was a discussion that she'd been having with her parents for more years than she could remember.

Thankfully, her mother decided to change the subject. "Have you told Sola all this yet?"

"No. I will soon, though." Padmé could only imagine how  _that_  conversation was going to go. Her sister had started teasing her about Anakin from practically the moment she'd laid eyes on the two of them, and now Padmé was going to have to admit that Sola had been correct about their feelings, something she'd denied vehemently at the time. And Padmé  _hated_ —in a way which involved little to no actual hatred—admitting when her older sister was right about something. Though perhaps Sola would have some advice about how she and Anakin could work through their issues, given her own long marriage to Darren…

A chime from the door to Anakin's quarters sounded, and Padmé was jerked out of her reverie. "Mom, Dad, we have to go."

"All right, then," her father said. "But comm us back sometime soon, okay? I'd like to hear a little more about…all of this." He gestured between her and Anakin.

"I will," Padmé promised. "In the next few days, I promise."

Jobal smiled at her. "Goodbye, Padmé. It was, ah, nice to talk to you, Anakin."

"You too," Anakin replied, and Padmé cut the transmission.

"See?" she said. "They aren't so scary."

Anakin got up and headed towards the door. "I never said they were scary!"

"No, you just hid behind me and said, like, four things to them in the entire conversation."

"You're better at talking than I am." He hit the door release.

"I'm  _sure_  that was the reason." She waved at the newcomer. "Good afternoon, Obi-Wan." Then she caught sight of the people behind him. "…and Master Windu…and Master Yoda." What on Coruscant…?

"The Jedi team investigating Palpatine has discovered some interesting information," Windu told them without preamble. "Actually, Senator Amidala, we'd like to hear your input."

That wasn't entirely unexpected, given how closely she'd associated with the man during the early days of her political career. Still, she wasn't sure what they could have  _discovered_  that wasn't already public knowledge like her role in giving him the position of Chancellor. "All right," she said, following the three Jedi Masters out the door with Anakin close at her heels. "Anything in particular?"

"Padmé," said Obi-Wan. "Did you ever know a man by the name of Hego Damask?"

Padmé stopped walking and stared at him. "The Magister of Damask Holdings? The  _Muun_?" She hadn't thought about the man in years; he'd died over a decade before. "Not very personally. But he helped finance my campaign for Queen, I think. Why?" And what could he  _possibly_  have to do with Palpatine?

Obi-Wan traded glances with Windu. "It may be easier to show you," he said. "Both of you come along."

Padmé caught Anakin's eye. He looked as bemused as she felt, and shrugged before following Obi-Wan and the others down the corridor. Padmé shook her head—it was typical of the Jedi, to be so vague and mysterious—and followed after.


	19. Shadows

Anakin rubbed his eyes as he followed Obi-Wan and the others down through the lower levels of the Temple. It was getting late, and it had been a long day.

A long week, really. So much had happened since he'd first gone to the opera with Palpatine that it was difficult to remember it had only been what—four days ago? Five? And everything had changed since then; everything had been thrown into turmoil. The galaxy, the Senate, the war, and the really important things like his relationships with Padme and Obi-Wan.

And the Chancellor. The late Chancellor. The  _Sith_.

If Padme was similarly feeling the weight of the past few days, she wasn't showing it. He could see her glancing around as they walked, taking in her surroundings. But then, he supposed, she'd never been in this part of the Temple, far below the public levels.

Finally, Windu stopped in front of a door, turning to address the group. "This is where we've been keeping the evidence collected from Palpatine's office and apartment, as well as from a few other places around Coruscant—mostly in the industrial sector—that the first papers we found pointed to."

Padme had mentioned that there were Jedi teams involved in the investigation. What could Palpatine had left behind that they didn't want the Senate looking into? Why would they need  _Padme_  for it?

"Don't touch anything," said Windu, and suddenly he was looking directly at Anakin. "Skywalker, that means you. We've taken everything truly dangerous—including that holocron you stole—somewhere more secure, but I still want your hands where I can see them. Understood?"

Anakin nodded. After he'd already stolen one Sith artifact, he could understand why they didn't want to chance him taking anything else that might be tainted with the dark side, but it still stung a little to be called out specifically like that. "Understood."

Windu opened the door, and Anakin followed Obi-Wan into the room. His eyes widened—there were papers, a  _lot_  of them, stacked on tables near the back of the room. Closer to the door were a number of closed boxes of various sizes. Artifacts, presumably.

Even standing several feet away, he could sense them. They felt like Palpatine—like his office, like the man himself. Like a serpent's smile. Powerful, treacherous, icy and hot at the same time.

Inviting.

Anakin crossed his arms tightly over his chest, clenching his fists in his sleeves. Self-control. He could do this. He wasn't going to give anyone any more reason to doubt him. Closing his eyes and walking over to where the others were standing, he forcibly wrenched his attention away from the boxes and instead focused hard on the Force-signatures of Obi-Wan and Padme standing beside him.

A few deep breaths, and the moment had passed—he could still feel the taint of darkness emanating from the boxes, but it wasn't…beckoning to him anymore.

And Windu had said all the  _really_  dangerous stuff had already been taken elsewhere? These didn't count? How could  _anybody_  be in the presence of dark objects more powerful than these ones, like the Sith holocrons had been, and  _not_  be tempted?

Rivan's voice again filtered through his memory.  _The most important darkness lies within._  Maybe it wasn't a matter of being tempted, but of succumbing to that temptation. Maybe the sense of darkness he'd felt was just as strong for other Jedi—the ones who had taken away the more powerful artifacts, Windu, Yoda and Obi-Wan—but they weren't drawn to it, as he was.

Maybe  _he_  was the problem here, not whatever was in those boxes.

"—references to Darth Plagueis," Windu was saying. Anakin hadn't been paying attention, but at that name, his head snapped up. "While we were aware, of course, that Sidious must have had a master at some point, the identity of a now-dead Sith was hardly a priority. However, that has now changed. Though we've only read through a fraction of these papers, we've already discovered something significant: Palpatine's master was none other than Hego Damask."

The name meant nothing to Anakin other than what Padme had said when Obi-Wan had brought it up earlier. He glanced at her, and saw that she had turned pale and was pressing a hand over her mouth. The expressions worn by Obi-Wan, Windu, and Yoda were similarly grim.

Feeling a little bit left out, Anakin waited for an explanation. "Okay," he said, when none was forthcoming. "Sorry,  _who_?"

Padme took his hand. "He was the Magister of Damask Holdings until he died about a decade ago," she said. "A member of the Banking Clan."

"And  _wealthy_ , even among Muuns," Obi-Wan added. "Enough to give him considerable influence. There's not much out there about him personally, but if he was a Sith…Well, just as Palpatine had his fingers in every political pie over the past decade or so, we can assume that Damask had been manipulating the galactic economy for decades before  _that_."

Anakin began to comprehend the problem. Padme had been telling him about the turmoil the Senate was in as it tried to weed out the legislation and executive orders that had been created under Palpatine, how difficult it was to know which had been passed to advance his agenda and which were worthwhile to keep. Because it hadn't all been as obvious as the modifications made to the Constitution in order to allow him to gain more power—and aside from those, it was nearly impossible to tell which bills Palpatine had passed simply to keep the Republic running and himself popular, and which ones served a subtler, more malevolent purpose.

And it would be harder even than that to track the influence of a Sith who  _hadn't_  been working in the public sector. The Banking Clan was insular, secretive, even when they weren't actively trying to further the power of the dark side behind the scenes. Not to mention that, in Anakin's experience when it came to most of the galaxy, credits were almost always more powerful than laws.

Figuring out everything Damask had done, and why he'd done it, and whether it was still aiding the Sith agenda,  _and_  trying to reverse it if it was, would make the Senate's attempt to eradicate Palpatine's influence look like child's play by comparison.

"The good news," said Windu, "is that, as I mentioned, there are a number of references to the Sith's doings under the guise of Damask in the journals and other papers we recovered. There are even some writings from Damask himself. From that, we should be able to gather  _some_  idea of what the man was up to—at least enough to begin an investigation."

Padme nodded and looked over at him. "I take it that's why I'm here, then?"

"Indeed," said Yoda. "Simply hand over Sith manuscripts to the Senate we cannot, yet need Senate resources and records to investigate this fully we do."

Windu held out a sheath of papers. "Our own teams have started working through the papers to separate the ones that document or reference Plagueis's economic activity from the information that we'd prefer to stay within the walls of the Temple—but the two aren't always entirely distinct. Since you already have some familiarity with the Sith and close ties to the Jedi, we'd like to ask you to begin the investigation, if you're willing." His eyes met hers, expression serious. She nodded, and he continued. "While you'll be given documents that primarily relate to Damask's finances, there may be other material on the same pages. Do  _not_  hesitate to ask Master Kenobi, myself, or another Council member if you are unsure whether certain information should be shared with the Senate."

Padme let go of Anakin's hand and took the papers. "I understand," she said. "I'll be discreet. Anyways, it's like I said about Palpatine when we went to tell the Senate about  _him_ —the idea of 'Sith' wouldn't mean much, but if I can find evidence of illegal activity, or even just ties to Palpatine himself…"

"And do let us know about  _all_  of your findings, even if it's not worth bringing to the Senate," Obi-Wan added. "Even if what he was doing wasn't technically illegal, it's almost certainly of interest to us."

"Of course," Padme responded. "You said the Jedi teams had already begun going through them. Is there anything in particular they found you want me to start focusing on?"

"Actually, yes," said Windu. "Our people identified a few dummy corporations owned by Damask Holdings that were later bought by Count Dooku, and if you can find a paper trail that tells us what exactly they were doing, we'd thank you. Additionally…"

Anakin couldn't quite follow the discussion that followed. For a conversation about the activities of a powerful Sith Lord, it wasn't particularly interesting—finances and loans and shareholders and business transactions weren't things he normally paid much attention to, and even if he hadn't been exhausted he might not have understood all of it. In his experience, credits were credits: you either bought something with them, or you saved them to buy something later, and anything beyond that was probably unnecessarily complicated. Complicated or  _evil_ , apparently. First Rush Clovis, now a Sith—he was really beginning to think the Banking Clan could do with a little more Republic oversight…

"Anakin." He blinked a little at the sound of Obi-Wan's voice saying his name, and only then realized that he'd been drifting away from the group, towards the table with the boxes on it. Now the others had all gone quiet and were staring at him, and he was standing less than two feet away from…whatever the 'not truly dangerous' objects were.

He hadn't even noticed himself move. Slightly alarmed, and remembering what had happened within the Sith Vault, he checked his pockets. They were empty, and almost immediately he felt stupid—not only would the others in the room almost certainly have noticed if he'd taken something even if he himself hadn't been aware, but the evidence boxes themselves weren't even small enough to fit in his robes.

"Perhaps you should step outside," said Windu, eying him with a characteristically neutral expression that could have been masking either suspicion or concern. Somehow, Anakin guessed that it was more the first than the second.

He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers to show that they were empty. "I'm fine," he said. There was no  _way_  he was going to go sit in the hallway, practically in time out, while they discussed the top-secret investigation into the Sith with Padme, who wasn't even a Jedi. It would just be too embarrassing. Plus, it was possible the conversation might actually get interesting again.

Still, even he was slightly shaken by his own unconscious actions. Better to swallow his pride than to  _actually_  fall under the sway of the dark side again, even if it would be nearly impossible for him to steal something else or do any harm with three Jedi Masters in the room ready to snap him out of it. "I'll go stand over here," he told Windu, moving away from the table and walking across to the far end of the room. The pull from the dark side lessened—though the papers on the tables here had their own oily feeling to them, it was faint enough to be barely perceptible. More like the natural imprint that any object might pick up after a while in the presence of a Force-sensitive than something that had been imbued. "Better?"

Windu nodded. Obi-Wan and Padme were both still looking at him with concern, and he offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile in their direction, then jammed his hands into his pockets. They turned back to the discussion with Windu. Yoda was still watching him, expression unreadable, and Anakin met his eyes for a few moments before lowering his gaze to the floor.

The conversation continued, but Anakin, now distracted and halfway across the room, was even less able to follow it than he had been before. Fighting back a yawn, he half wished he'd taken Windu up on his suggestion and just left—they were talking now about an uprising he'd never heard of, and it was all he could do not to fall asleep on his feet. But going back to his quarters now would seem like a concession, like he didn't think he could handle the echoes of the dark side without being corrupted by them. How could he expect any of  _them_  to trust him if he couldn't even act like he trusted himself?

So he stayed, pacing back and forth along the tables piled with papers in an attempt to keep himself alert and awake. This couldn't possibly take  _that_  much longer—Windu had said they'd only read through a fraction of the documents, so there could only be so much for them to discuss before they handed the investigation over to Padme. And then they could go back to his quarters and finally get some sleep…

A phrase on one of the papers caught his eye, and he stopped walking, then took a step backwards to look at it and make sure he'd read it correctly:

' _midi-chlorian count as high as 20,000 per cell'_

He glanced back at the other side of the room. Padme and the Jedi were still engaged in conversation, and none of them seemed to be looking at him. He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets—better safe than sorry—and took a closer look at the page.

It was real paper, not a flimsi, and old-looking: a yellowish color, fading to brown at the edges. The top of the page was dated about twenty-five years previously. He didn't recognize the handwriting—it certainly wasn't Palpatine's elegant script—and the page was titled  _Concentrating the Force._

Anakin scanned through a few paragraphs and diagrams discussing some sort of midi-chlorian experimentation done on—he shuddered—sentient, humanoid beings which was described as often killing the subject.

There was only one Sith Anakin had heard of—not that he'd heard of many—who'd been interested in the midi-chlorians. He swallowed, and continued reading until he reached the paragraph which had caught his attention:

' _But I believe that by using this method I can trick midi-chlorians into creating a zygote. Then it would simply be a matter of growing the subject under normal biological conditions. Such a subject could, of course, take years to hit the developmental milestones of a typical humanoid, but he could have a midi-chlorian count as high as 20,000 per cell. That is more than any Jedi or Sith in recorded history. Although entirely theoretical, such an achievement is intriguing.'_

Anakin's mouth went dry. It meant nothing, he told himself. Probably, it meant nothing. It could be entirely a coincidence.

Could be. But his palms were beginning to sweat.

A quick glance revealed that there were several more pieces of paper that had the same aged look and scrawled handwriting. Anakin was torn between wanting to look at the rest to see if he could find anything to confirm or disprove his fear and wanting to forget what he'd read, to go back over to Obi-Wan and Padme and take his chances with the boxed artifacts.

But then he saw another heading, and his inner conflict disappeared.  _'The Prophecy of the Chosen One,'_  it read. He swallowed hard, glanced up to make sure no one was looking, and pulled it out of the stack so that the whole page was visible.

A few paragraphs disparaging the Jedi's reliance on tradition and storytelling. A description of the prophecy. A drawing of…was that  _Mortis_? And then…and then…

' _So we come back to midi-chlorians. These organisms allow beings to live and provide a connection to the Force. If bred in sufficient quantities, midi-chlorians can even conceive a new life-form and bestow upon it powers greater than any Jedi has ever dreamed, generating a vergence in the Force._

' _If I influence midi-chlorians to create such a being, my handiwork would fit all the descriptions of their Chosen One. But he would be an agent of my will. How fitting that the misguided reliance on superstition could lead to a Sith creation that is hailed by the Jedi as a savior.'_

Anakin's heart began pounding so loudly in his ears that it drowned out the sound of the conversation from across the room. His whole body felt warm, and for a moment the room seemed to tilt and spin around him. Grabbing the table to steady himself, he took several shaky breaths. After a moment he felt slightly more steady—physically, at least—and took several stumbling steps away from the table.

Did the Jedi  _know_? Surely they wouldn't have allowed him to stay in the Order if this was one of the papers they'd already read, surely they'd be treating him with more suspicion. They probably wouldn't have let him out of his quarters, let alone into this room. If they'd read this, they couldn't possibly trust him.

Now that  _he'd_  read it, he couldn't trust himself.

A memory leapt to his mind unbidden. Sitting in the opera house with Palpatine, that night when he'd been given his first hope of saving Padme. But there had been something else, something he hadn't paid much attention to at the time.

" _Darth Plagueis_ ," Palpatine had said, " _was a Dark Lord of the Sith so powerful and so wise he could use the Force to influence the midichlorians to create life._ "

And as he'd said it, he'd looked at Anakin. Directly at Anakin. And he'd smiled.

Anakin wished he could erase the last several minutes from his memory. To wonder if darkness lay somewhere deep inside his soul, that was one thing. But to  _know_ …

Numbly, he made his way back to where the others were standing. Vaguely he heard Padme say something to Windu about Bail Organa; vaguely he noticed that both Yoda and Obi-Wan were looking at him oddly.

"Anakin, are you all right?" Obi-Wan, predictably, always alert to his moods. And now  _everyone_  was looking at him again.

"Fine," he answered mechanically. "Just a little tired. Are you guys finished?" His voice didn't sound quite like his own, or perhaps it  _was_  his voice and he just wasn't the one saying it. Nobody seemed to notice anything, though; they all stopped staring.

"I believe so," Windu said. "As I said earlier, Senator, please keep in touch with the Council throughout the investigation."

If any more was said, Anakin either tuned it out or forgot it immediately. And then everyone was leaving, Yoda and Windu heading off in one direction while Obi-Wan walked with him and Padme up to the living area of the Temple before heading off to his own quarters.

The next thing Anakin knew, he was collapsing on his bed next to Padme with no clear memory of entering the room or removing his cloak and boots. " _Are_  you all right, Ani?" Padme asked him, sounding slightly worried. She propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. "You look pale."

"Just tired," Anakin repeated, and rolled over onto his side so that he could wrap his arms around her and bury his face against her neck.

"Tell me about it," Padme said. "Gods, things have been hectic enough at the Senate without needing to look into decades-old financial records for evidence of Sith manipulation. And my mom was saying I should take a  _break_  from work until the babies are born…" She yawned, and lay back on the bed. "We should both get some sleep."

But he couldn't. Instead, Anakin lay awake staring at the ceiling and listening to Padme's breath until it finally evened out. Thoughts chased each other in his mind, around in circles, the same thoughts over and over again.

The dark side was evil.

(He'd doubted that, a few days ago, and it had nearly cost him everything. Now he was certain of it).

He'd been created by the dark side.

(No proof, nothing definitive…but the  _timing_ , and Palpatine's words at the opera, and didn't Obi-Wan always say that there were no coincidences, only the Force?).

He was drawn to the dark side, more than other Jedi.

(Obi-Wan had gone into the Sith Vault to pull him out without suffering any ill effects, while he had only taken a single step inside before being yanked under the current. None of the Jedi had appeared to be affected at  _all_  by whatever had been in the evidence boxes, let alone in the way he had been).

He'd touched the dark side, on Tatooine and in the Sith Vault and when he'd opened the holocron for Palpatine.

(Each time had been easier than the last).

He'd  _chosen_  the dark side, of his own free will in Palpatine's office.

(In Jedi records stretching back thousands of years, there was not a single piece of evidence pointing to  _anyone_ , ever, who had joined the Sith and later managed to reject the dark side of their own free will. Not one. The dark side, it seemed, was intractable once it had been engrained so deeply).

The dark side was evil…

Even when Anakin did finally fall asleep, his mind found no rest.

* * *

The hood of his cloak over his head and the 501st at his back, Anakin strode up the steps to the Jedi Temple.

Though he didn't  _feel_  like Anakin. Not really. It was possible he had another name entirely.

With a single swipe of his lightsaber, the life of Gate Master Jurokk was extinguished. He led his troops through the entry hall into the Great Hall, and the massacre began. The Jedi weren't prepared and they were not organized—some fought for their lives, others ran to warn others, many simply died before they could grasp what was happening.

It was clear to Anakin—or whoever he was—that even between the enemies who were fighting and those who were fleeing, his mission would be successful. He marched on.

He went first to the Temple Archives, a place he hadn't been in months. Jocasta Nu recognized him before he cut her down. Shaak Ti was next, in a meditation chamber. And then other Jedi—some of whom he knew the names of, others he didn't, but it didn't matter to him either way. The relevant fact was this and only this: they were enemies of the Republic, and they stood between him and his goal.

So they died. In  _droves._  Many fought him, that was true, but even the strongest were no match for the power of the dark side. He could  _feel_  himself becoming more powerful with each one he killed.

His comlink chimed, and an image of Commander Appo appeared.  _"Sir_ ," the clone said. " _We can't get the door to the Council chamber open. I think it's likely there are traitors hiding inside._ "

Very likely. It was one of the most secure rooms in the building, and was built to withstand almost any emergency.

When in lockdown, only a Council member would be able to get in. Only one of the most trusted members of the Order.

Tonight, that meant a serious flaw in the security. A  _fatal_  flaw, as it would happen.

"Leave it, Commander," he ordered. "I will deal with whoever's in there myself." This access, along with his power, was a gift Lord Sidious had given him.

The clones were gone by the time he reached the ancient chamber. He punched in the code and watched as the door slid open. For a moment, the room looked empty, and then children—young children, none of them looking older than ten—stood up from behind chairs and flowed towards him.

He felt nothing.

"Master Skywalker, there are too many of them," said a small boy. "What are we going to do?" His eyes shone with fear.

For a moment, he looked around at the children in front of him. Beyond the obvious terror, he could see the hope in their faces as they waited for him to give them instructions. To  _save_ them.

And he watched their faces change as he ignited his lightsaber in reply. Tonight, he was saving only one person, and she wasn't here.

They were easy prey, and the process went quickly. A job the clones could have done if they had only been able to enter the room. By the end of it, he wasn't even breathing heavily, though his eyes were oddly wet.

He ignored the tears and left the room. Someone else would clean up the bodies later.

For now, he still had work to do.

* * *

Anakin jolted upright in his bed, breathing heavily as the remnants of the dream faded away. After a moment, he buried his head in his hands.

And then he lifted his head. Something felt off, and he turned to Padme to shake her awake and ask if she knew what it was.

She wasn't breathing.

Anakin's heart seized in his chest, and he reached out to grab her arm. She was cold, and as his hand slipped down to encircle her wrist, he could feel that she didn't have a pulse.

"No," he breathed. "No, Padme. Padme,  _wake up_!"

She didn't. With a wave of his hand, the lights in the room came on, and he could see her lying on the bed with her hands folded across her chest. Padme's skin was pale and waxy, and her open eyes stared blindly up at the ceiling.

"Padme," Anakin moaned, "Padme, Padme. Wake  _up_ , Padme!" Somehow, it had turned into a scream.

He scrambled away from her, nearly falling off the bed, and then ran from the room out into the apartment. Except it wasn't  _his_  apartment; it was the one he'd shared with Obi-Wan for over ten years until he'd been Knighted. That fact didn't strike him as odd.

He darted to his Master's room, as he always had as a Padawan when nightmares had gripped him. But the moment he turned on the light, he saw the truth: Obi-Wan, too, was dead. His friend was lying on his own bed, unnaturally still, chest not rising and falling. Just in case, Anakin ran to him and grabbed his shoulder. But Obi-Wan—or what was left of him—was also cold, a void in the Force.

Anakin ran out of the room, eyes blurring with tears, and nearly tripped over the body of Ahsoka. He screamed again, and fell to his knees, struck with the sudden certainty that every Jedi in the Temple was dead.

And not just the Jedi. Staggering to his feet, he made his way to the window looking out over the city. All of the lights in all of the buildings in view were dark, and there were no speeders, no air traffic,  _nobody_  in sight. With that same certainty that it didn't even occur to him to question, Anakin knew that there was not a single being left alive on the planet. Possibly in the galaxy.

They were all dead, and it was his fault. He hadn't saved them; possibly he had killed them. Either way, he was the only one left alive.

And he was utterly, entirely alone.

But then, from behind him, Anakin heard a noise. A laugh. The sound was coming from his bedroom, but it didn't sound like Padme. He followed it, looking around the room in confusion when he found it empty.

Again, the laugh echoed from behind him. He whirled around and found himself facing a mirror. But the image in front of him was not his own, not exactly. It was  _him_ , all right, but fully dressed in black robes with a hood over his head, rather than wearing only sleep pants, and eyes that burned gold rather than blue.

Without entirely understanding why he was doing it, Anakin stepped forward and pressed his hands against the mirror. His reflection mirrored the action, and for a moment he found himself frozen, staring at his own yellow eyes and twisted smirk.

But then his mirror-self withdrew his hands, cocking his head to the side and looking at Anakin expectantly.

Questions whirled in Anakin's mind— _who are you_ , but he already knew the answer;  _did you do this to them_ , but he didn't want to know. "Why are you here?"

His reflection laughed again, the same haunting, almost maniacal sound that he'd heard earlier. "Did you really think you'd left me in Palpatine's office? The only reason you didn't fall was because of  _them_ "—and he made a small noise of disgust, gesturing to where Padme lay on the bed and then to the wall that separated his room from Obi-Wan's—"and they can't  _always_ be around, can they?"

Anakin shook his head in denial. "I know better now," he said, dropping his hands from the cool surface of the mirror and taking a step back. "You aren't real."

"As real as you are," replied the reflection, reaching forward with one arm. His hand approached the mirror's surface and then passed through it, grasping just inches away from Anakin's cloak. "Perhaps more so." Anakin took another step backward, and then another, but his mirror-self followed, stepping entirely out of the surface of the glass. "And do you really know better, or do you just pretend to out of  _fear_?"

Anakin backed up against the bed. "The dark side is evil," he said. "I was wrong to consider it. That's not fear, it's common sense."

"You  _should_  fear it," his doppelganger said, and shoved him hard in the chest. When Anakin fell seated onto the bed, he crouched down in front of him and continued: "It's powerful. It's patient. It  _always_ wins. And," he tapped Anakin on the chest, "it's right here. Are you really trying to say it was  _sense_  that made you turn against Palpatine, and not more fear of loss?"

Anakin didn't reply.

His twin sat down beside him, placing an arm over his shoulders. Anakin tried to shift away, but found himself unable to move. "You can't fight me forever," the double breathed in his ear. "You can't fight me at all—the Force is strong within you,  _both_ sides of it." A hand gripped Anakin's chin, twisting his head until he was staring once again into his own hypnotic, golden eyes. "You can  _ignore_  me, but how long will that last?"

Anakin pushed at him, breaking through whatever compulsion had been holding him motionless to scramble away. He opened his mouth to voice a denial of what his double was saying, but the words caught in his throat—no, the  _air_  caught in his throat; he couldn't breathe, and he looked up to see himself with an hand outstretched and his face twisted in anger.

He tried to run, fell off the bed, and found himself lying on the floor and scrabbling at his throat as his vision began to go splotchy. His double entered his narrowing field of vision, leaning over him, and he closed his eyes to shut out the viciousness he couldn't bear to see on his own face. But there was no way to shut out the words being spoken in a voice only slightly rougher than his: "You  _can't_  run from me. I've been here since the beginning, and you  _let_  me get stronger." Calloused hands gripped his cheek. "You're no better than I am, only weaker."

And then the hands changed, somehow, and so did the voice. "You made the choice, my boy." Anakin's eyes shot open and he could just see that it was now Palpatine crouching over him, smiling gently, running a hand through his hair. No one was choking him anymore, but he still couldn't breathe. "You  _chose_  to become my apprentice. There's no escaping your destiny now." The Sith leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Anakin's forehead. "I'm certain you'll make me proud, eventually."

Anakin was almost grateful when his vision finally went black.

* * *

This time, Anakin woke for real. Immediately he rolled over towards Padme, reaching out to touch her. Her skin was warm beneath his fingertips, and he pulled her closer towards him, resting his head on her chest and listening to the sound of her heartbeat.  _She's alive, she's alive, it's okay, she's alive…_

For several minutes he lay there, damp with sweat, aware and uncaring that his breathing was ragged and his cheeks were wet with tears. With some effort, he managed to convince himself  _not_  to go to the quarters next door and check on Obi-Wan as well. It was a dream, he told himself. Not a vision.

In a way, that was almost worse. If he'd been able to feel the weight of the Force behind the images now burned into his mind, at least he might have been able to do something about them. But the first part of the dream had felt...oddly real and detailed, but not  _prophetic._ What could have been, perhaps.

The second part...if that had been a vision, at least he could have attributed it to the Force. As it was, there was no escaping the fact that it had been generated entirely from his own mind. There was no evil double, not a clone that he could fight or kill or even disagree with—only Anakin himself.

His own thoughts. His own soul.

And whatever Palpatine had talked him into believing these past thirteen years.

He shuddered and pulled away from Padme—though not Force-sensitive, her presence rang clearly in the Force like the sound of a bell. Not strong, but carrying—soft, peaceful, soothing.

Too pure for him to touch.

She'd disagree with that, he knew, and perhaps he'd feel differently in the light of day. But for now, all he could do was sit with his knees pulled up to his chest, still trembling slightly, staring out the window into the dark Coruscant night.

No stars were visible tonight—too much light pollution even this late, in a city that never really went to sleep.

Anakin could relate. Sighing, he let his chin rest on his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs in an attempt to stop himself from shaking.

And he waited for the sun to rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the long wait everyone, school was in the way-I should be updating somewhat more regularly over the summer months.
> 
> The italicized excerpts from Plagueis's journal are quoted directly fromBook of Sith: Secrets from the Dark Side by Daniel Wallace. They do not belong to me.
> 
> Anakin's mirror-self references a quote from Matthew Stover's novelization of Revenge of the Sith, which also does not belong to me.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	20. Negotiation

Padmé awoke the next morning to find Anakin sitting up in bed, watching her silently with his face propped in his hands. From the bags under his eyes, she doubted he'd gotten much sleep, and she reflected that it probably said something about the way her life had been going lately that she was as concerned about  _that_  as she was about the machinations of the two Sith Lords she would be investigating later at work.

Yawning, she sat up and rubbed her eyes, then moved closer to him. He blinked at her, and gave a small smile. "Morning, Padmé."

"You didn't sleep well," she said quietly; it wasn't a question. "Were you having…nightmares?"

"Nothing prophetic." The answer was only slightly reassuring—even when Anakin's dreams  _had_ been prophetic, or at least so he'd believed, it had been his mental state that had mattered more than the visions themselves. But if he wasn't dreaming of her death, then he couldn't be panicking over how to prevent it, and that, at least, was something. Still, though her husband's sleep had been regularly interrupted by nightmares for as long as they'd been married, Padmé couldn't help but be more apprehensive about it now than she'd been in the past.

She leaned over, wrapping her arms around him and taking a deep breath. "I'm glad to hear that." Though she would have been more glad to hear he hadn't dreamed at all. For several long moments, they stayed in that position, with her head resting against his shoulder and his hands curled into her hair. Finally, she turned her head to give him a quick kiss, and then pulled back.

"Another early Senate session?" he asked.

Padmé nodded. "And I want to start looking into Damask." For some reason, Anakin flinched slightly at the name. Odd. He hadn't seemed terribly interested in the investigation the night before, which wasn't all that surprising; he  _did_  have a lot on his mind, after all. She eyed him closely. He looked tired, tense, and now he had withdrawn from her slightly and wasn't quite meeting her eyes.

As if she wasn't concerned enough about him already. "Is there anything you have to do today?" she asked. When he shook his head, she continued: "Then go back to sleep, if you can. Think over whether you want to accept the Council's offer to let you stay a Jedi. Maybe talk to Obi-Wan. Just get some rest, okay?"

"Okay," he said, and then, "I'll try."

It was as much as she could hope for. Slipping out of the bed, she prepared to face the day ahead.

* * *

After a quick stop at her own apartment in 500 Republica to change her clothes, Padmé headed for the Senate. Already her mind was occupied with the complexity of the problem she'd been presented with the evening before. Investigating Damask would likely mean investigating the Banking Clan, and they weren't known for being forthcoming. Even if Damask  _had_  left records with them, and even if those records were still accessible more than ten years after the fact, it wouldn't be easy. At least she had the papers she'd been given by the Jedi to work off of—though even just flipping through them quickly earlier, she'd seen pages missing where the Jedi had withheld information, and given the unsorted piles of documents she'd seen in the evidence, she imagined that there were still more relevant notes that she'd have to wait for.

And then there was another aspect to the situation, one she couldn't quite put out of her mind no matter how she tried. Damask's money had helped fund her campaign for Queen. Had she been a pawn in the Sith's plans even then? If Palpatine had been behind the Trade Federation's actions from the start, then he almost certainly would have been planning the blockade by that point. It was one thing to know he'd used her naivety to call for the vote of No Confidence, but the idea that he'd planned to put her and her specifically there in the first place…

She hadn't known Hego Damask. Not really, not personally. But after years of slowly breaking personally and politically from Palpatine when he had once been her mentor, only to discover overnight that he was a traitor and a Sith, right now the idea than even a faceless name from her fundraising lists had been manipulating her seemed like one betrayal too many.

Padmé forced herself to put the thought aside as she arrived at the Senate. The first session itself wouldn't start for another half-hour, but she had a stop to make first.

Bail Organa's office. She'd asked the Jedi if she could share some details of the investigation with the Alderaanian senator, and they'd agreed. Aside from being a personal friend of both hers and Obi-Wan's, Bail was the only one she could trust to understand some of the more sensitive aspects of her mission. And after that business on Zigoola with Obi-Wan two years before, it seemed the Jedi trusted him too.

"Padmé!" he greeted her as she entered. "Come in, come in." He was sitting at his desk, a cup of caf in one hand and a datapad in the other, and he looked almost as tired as Anakin had. "Did you want to talk about the Security Acts repeals?"

She shook her head. "There's something else I want another pair of eyes on," she told him, and then gave him a quick run-down of the information the Jedi had given her. "Investigating Damask's movements isn't going to be easy, and even after Palpatine I don't think anyone else would understand why a Sith would be dangerous enough to look into." Even a long-dead one. "Do you think you can help? I know you're busy"—they all were—"but I do think it's important."

Bail sat back in his seat, looking pale. "I can see why you'd want to look into that," he said slowly. "Damask was a Sith?  _Fierfek._ " He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm willing to help, but it's going to have to wait a few days. I've got a mission of my own—I was going to track you down and ask you about it, if you hadn't found me first."

Padmé tilted her head, curiosity piqued. "What's going on?"

"The Separatist Council has finally made official contact. Well, semi-official, anyway."

Eyes widening, Padmé pulled a chair up to his desk and sat down. "They're ready to negotiate?" she asked. After three years of war, and then the days of unconfirmed whispers and off-the-record discussions that had followed Palpatine's death, the idea seemed almost unreal.

"Sort of." He made a noncommittal hand gesture. "I don't think they're formally ready to commit to a peace treaty yet—even with their three most important leaders dead and morale in the Confederacy low, it sounds like they're still hedging their bets and trying to find the best way to save face. I'm sure you've heard that there are still some Separatists who don't want the war to end, who think that the clones' defection is the perfect opportunity to crush us. Gunray and the others have heard them, too, and they don't want to seem weak."

Padmé nodded, considering. "We already knew we'd have to give them some concessions," she said. That had been the cause of more than a few heated arguments in the Senate chamber over the past few days— _nobody_  was happy with the idea of yielding to the demands that the Trade Federation had been pushing for for over a decade, Padmé least of all when she thought about how they'd invaded her planet over ten years earlier. But there was no getting around the fact that the Republic no longer had the military strength to continue fighting with the clones gone. Even the Jedi were weakened and had been forced to retreat en masse to Coruscant. An armistice that weakened Republic oversight of trade routes would be less damaging in the long run than allowing the droid armies to destroy and conquer their way further towards the Core with no possible hope of holding them off. "Are they asking for anything we hadn't considered?"

"They aren't asking for anything, yet," Bail replied. "They want a meeting. Officially it's to discuss a cease-fire in the short term while we both piece our governments back together; unofficially, I'd bet they want to figure out whether we're willing to give them enough that a peace treaty would be more profitable than continuing the fight."

Padmé pursed her lips. "So, pre-negotiations then," she mused. "We could get some valuable information out of that, too; see how capable they are of handling themselves and making decisions without Sidious and Dooku to direct them. Does the rest of the Senate know about this?"

"Only the Security Committee. We'll tell everyone else during today's session, but I wanted to get your opinion first." He glanced up at her. "You think it's a good idea, then?"

"I don't think we have much choice," Padmé said. "This could be our best opportunity to end the war." She remembered what he'd said earlier about having a 'mission of his own,' and frowned. "Would you be going alone? There could still be more going on than we know about."

"That's the idea. When it comes time for the formal negotiations, we'll have to send a larger group, but for now I think it's better to keep this as simple as possible." He sighed. "Ideally I'll have some security, of course, but with the clones gone our remaining forces are spread thin. And publicly bringing a Jedi would bring more danger than safety."

" _Publicly_  bringing a Jedi?" Padmé asked. "Are you considering  _privately_  bringing one?"

Bail shrugged. "I had hoped to ask Master Kenobi," he admitted. "As long as the rest of the Senate doesn't know, it shouldn't get broadcast anywhere the clones might hear about it. And catching the Sep Council off their guard might not be the worst thing either."

It wasn't a bad idea. One Jedi was probably enough security for any tricks the Separatists might try to pull, especially if they weren't expecting him. Still…"Obi-Wan's pretty busy at the moment," she commented. "All the Council are, trying to get the rest of the Jedi back home." Not to mention sorting through everything that Palpatine had left behind, all those papers that had been too classified for even her to look at. "I'm sure they'll send  _someone_ for a meeting as important as this, but I don't know they'll be able to spare him specifically."

Bail raised an eyebrow. "You seem awfully informed about Jedi affairs." He paused, then added: "As usual."

Padmé felt her face flush warm and she jerked her chin up, opening her mouth to deflect, to deny.

Except…why should she deny it? Now that the Council knew, why should she hide? Oh, she and Anakin had decided to keep it from the general public for as long as possible—the last thing either of them wanted was to be dealing with a media scandal on top of everything else—but that couldn't last forever, and Bail was a close enough friend that she'd rather he find out from her than from the HoloNet when the news inevitably broke.

"Yes," she said. "I do know a lot about the Jedi. Bail, there's something I want to tell you."

His eyebrow rose even further, and he nodded at her to continue.

Padmé took a deep breath, and placed a hand on her stomach. "I'm pregnant. With twins"

Bail stared at her. His eyes moved quickly down to her stomach, then back to her face, widening in shock. "Uh," he said. "Congratulations. I…that's not what I was expecting to hear, but—congratulations." He smiled at her, but then his expression suddenly froze. "Padmé," he said slowly. "What does that have to do with the  _Jedi_?" From his tone, she guessed that he already had a suspicion—and Bail knew enough of the Jedi that he surely was aware of the Code.

"Anakin Skywalker is the father," she told him. "We're married."

Bail gaped at her. "…"

"You know," said Padmé conversationally, "Mace Windu made that exact same expression when  _he_ found out about it."

Bail passed a hand over his face. "But Padmé…" He shook his head. "What are you going to  _do_? I mean—if the other Jedi know—"

"They're accepting it for now," she told him. The rest of the circumstances regarding  _that_  situation were far too complex to get into at the moment. "We'll figure it out."

"Well. Congratulations to both of you, I suppose." He rose to his feet, glancing at the wall chrono. "We should both get going, but…I'll want to hear more about it later."

She nodded, standing up from the chair and beginning to head to the Senate chamber. "And I've been staying at the Temple; I can talk to Obi-Wan about the meeting with the Separatists if you want."

"Thanks," Bail said. And then, " _Married_?"

Padmé grinned to herself, and swept out of the room.

* * *

Obi-Wan sat cross-legged on the couch in his quarters, listening as Padmé explained the situation. He rubbed his beard, considering. On the one hand, helping to ensure a peace treaty—it was everything the Jedi had wanted since the war began, and Force knew it would be good to resolve at least  _one_  aspect of the current crisis. On the other, it wasn't as though he didn't have enough on his plate at this particular instant. Aside from coordinating the rescues of stranded Jedi, the Council was still trying to decide how to react to the new discoveries of information in Palpatine's papers that they'd made today.

Discoveries about Plagueis. Discoveries about  _Anakin_.

All of which was too confidential for him to share with Padmé, though, at least for the moment until they'd finished sorting through the remaining documents to verify it.

"I'll ask the Council," he told her. "A Jedi escort is a good idea, so long as it's kept quiet. I'm willing to go myself, but I may not be able to. I'll try to get back to Bail about it by the end of the day."

"Thank you," Padmé replied. She shifted in her seat, smoothing the folds of her dress with her hands, and he sensed a brief moment of hesitation before she looked up at him again and asked, "Have you talked to Anakin today?"

Slightly taken aback by the sudden change in topic, Obi-Wan frowned. "I…yes, briefly, earlier this afternoon. He'd just had his first appointment with the mind-healer the Council assigned him, and I got the feeling it didn't go particularly well. Why?" His stomach sank a little at her tone of voice; the last time they'd gotten together and discussed concerns about Anakin, the situation had devolved rather quickly.

"Nothing specific," she said, clasping her hands together on her lap. "Just…he seemed distracted yesterday after we visited the evidence room, and I  _know_  he didn't sleep well last night. And this morning he was quieter than usual." She glanced up at Obi-Wan, and seemed to notice his apprehension, adding, "He's not behaving as oddly as he was a week ago, so I don't think he's about to do anything drastic, but I'm not sure how well he's coping with everything that happened now that the immediate situation has died down and he doesn't have anything to distract himself with."

 _I'm not sure how well_ I'm _coping with everything that's happened_ , thought Obi-Wan. "If he's doing some self-reflection, that may not be a bad thing." He could only hope that was all that was going on. "Do you know if he's made a decision about staying with the Jedi? He didn't say anything when I spoke to him earlier, and I didn't want to bring it up myself in case he felt I was pressuring him." It was true that he wanted his friend to remain a Jedi—nothing that had happened over the past few days had changed his conviction that Anakin still needed the Order and the Order still needed Anakin. But the last thing he wanted was for Anakin to feel trapped if leaving for a civilian life was what he genuinely wanted.

"I don't think he has," Padmé said. "He told me that he doesn't  _want_  to leave, but he's not sure how well things will work in the long run if he stays, either. I think he's still torn about it." She leaned forward. "Obi-Wan, you should take him with you if you go."

"I—what?" Obi-Wan asked, momentarily confused.

"If you go to the meeting with the Separatists," Padmé clarified. "Take Anakin with you. Some time away from the Temple and the mess that Palpatine left behind might do him some good, I think. He needs some space to figure himself out if he's going to make this kind of decision, and right now he's just surrounded with reminders of what he almost did for Palpatine. And I completely understand why the other Jedi are wary of him, but I'm sure that's stressful too."

Obi-Wan rubbed his forehead. "And you think that attending a high-stakes meeting with a group of beings he despises will be  _less_  stressful?"

"A mission with a clear directive where he can do something important versus sitting in the Temple and stewing about his own actions, surrounded by people who are waiting for him to snap at any moment?" Padmé held her hands out by her sides, palms up as if weighing two invisible objects. "Which do  _you_  think would be better for him?"

She had a point, but Obi-Wan still had his doubts. "He'll never leave you here, you know," he pointed out. "Not until the children are born and he's sure the visions aren't about to come true, at least."

Padmé grimaced. "I can try to convince him," she said. "I'm still not due for a few weeks, and it's not as though he'd be going very far. Or, well, Mustafar—that's the planet the meeting's on— _is_ far away, technically speaking, but it's right along the major hyperlanes the whole route there. The journey would only be a few hours if he needed to come back."

Obi-Wan sighed. "I don't even know if  _I'll_  be able to spare the time to go," he reminded her. "Or if the Council will be willing to let him come on a mission this sensitive."

"The Council knows the role you played in preventing him from falling," Padmé said. "You don't think they'd want to keep you together, sensitive mission or not?" When he didn't reply, she continued: "At least ask them. And him, if they'll let you."

Rising to his feet, Obi-Wan placed his hands in opposite sleeves. "I will," he agreed. "I've got a Council meeting in a few minutes; I'll ask the others then." That the Separatist Council was requesting preliminary talks was important enough that he'd need to bring up the matter regardless of his own personal requests.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," Padmé said, rising as well. "For this and for everything else you've done for us these past few days. I really do appreciate it, and I know Anakin does as well. I don't know where he'd be without you."

"Likewise," said Obi-Wan quietly, and for a moment their eyes met. Not for the first time, he wondered what would have happened if she hadn't entered Palpatine's office at the moment she did.

Nothing good. It hardly bore thinking about.

And yet, as they said their farewells and Padmé departed, he couldn't help thinking about it anyway.

* * *

Anakin lay on his back on his bed, glaring at the ceiling. It hadn't been a good day. He hadn't seen Padmé except for a few minutes before she'd left in the morning, had only talked briefly with Obi-Wan. He  _had_  talked to one of the Temple mind-healers, as was now required of him, which had been both frustrating and awkward. Bringing up the topics that were really on his mind—Plagueis, and the possibility that he was a Sith creation—was out of the question, and he hadn't really had the energy to talk about anything else even though he knew that going along with it would be the fastest way to get the Council to consider loosening his restrictions.

Well, he'd worry about that once he decided whether or not to even stay a Jedi. First things first.

Sighing, he rolled over onto his side and looked at the wall-chrono. Nearly an hour until Padmé had said she'd be finished with work and able to come home.

Obi-Wan had said that he and the rest of the Council were going to be reading through more of the documents Palpatine had left behind today. Had they gotten to the notes Anakin had read yet? What would they do when they did? Once they realized he'd been made by the Sith, would they conclude he really was dark enough to be expelled outright? Would they  _tell_  him, once they found it, or would they decide he was dangerous enough without knowing his heritage?

If they did decide he was dangerous, would they be right?

Last night hadn't been the first time since Palpatine had died that he'd dreamed of attacking the Temple alongside the clones. Maybe it was a true vision of  _what would have been_ ; maybe it was just his own mind filling in the gaps of what might have happened if Obi-Wan and Padmé hadn't been there to stop him. Either way, there was no denying that had Palpatine had his way, that dream could have been a reality.

He'd killed children, in the dream. Without hesitation.

It was odd: in all the debate over whether he was fit to be a Jedi, it seemed nobody except himself seemed to be questioning whether he was fit to be a  _parent._  Whether he should be taking responsibility for two young, vulnerable lives when he couldn't even take control of his  _own_.

Not that he could imagine himself hurting his children, any more than he'd be capable of hurting Padmé. But there was more than one way to hurt someone—the Council had seen fit to restrict him from being alone with Jedi younglings, presumably in case he somehow managed to corrupt them. And if he really had been created by and for the dark side, it was very possible that they had been right to do it.

It was very possible that he  _was_  too dangerous to trust, even now that he wanted to stay as far away from the dark side as he was humanly capable of.

There was a chime at the door. Anakin frowned—it was too early for Padmé to be back—then got up, and went to answer it.

Obi-Wan stood on the other side. Something in Anakin eased when he saw him, the oppressive thoughts that had been pressing down on his mind lifting slightly. He gestured for the older man to come in.

Maybe he should just tell Obi-Wan what he'd found, even if it did mean alerting the Council of Plagueis's role in his conception earlier than they'd have found it themselves. Wasn't that what Obi-Wan and Padmé kept asking him to do? To stop keeping secrets, to  _tell_  them if he was in trouble, to not blindside them when his problems went critical? It was this very same thing, this  _fear_  of what they might think about him, that had stopped him from going to either one for advice when he'd been considering seeking out the dark side in the first place, and then after he'd taken the holocron and hadn't known what to do with it.

And look where  _that_  had gotten him. It was one thing to make that sort of mistake; it would be another to keep making it over and over.

But it wasn't as though he was planning anything reckless thanks to this new knowledge; he wasn't going to  _do_  something that might turn out to be a bad idea, not like breaking into a vault or opening a holocron.

"Good afternoon, Anakin," Obi-Wan said before he could come to a decision.

Anakin led him into the living room, sitting down on a couch. "Council meetings done for the day?" he asked. Obi-Wan had said that there was only one more when they'd talked earlier, but these days it was probably more likely than not that an emergency would come up surrounding the rescue of stranded Jedi or something like that, so Anakin wouldn't be surprised if the schedule had changed.

"Hopefully," Obi-Wan replied, sitting down as well. "We just finished having an…interesting discussion. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually."

Anakin was torn between annoyance that Obi-Wan was just here on business—it seemed like they had barely had any time to just talk or spar recently, which was understandable and partially his own fault anyway, but still frustrating—and relief that he had an excuse to put off bringing up his discovery about Plagueis. Whatever Obi-Wan wanted to talk about was probably more important.

Unless what Obi-Wan wanted to talk about  _was_  that the Council had found out about Anakin's relation to Plagueis. "Yeah?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "What's going on?"

A few minutes later, he was staring at Obi-Wan in shock, thoughts of Plagueis temporarily forgotten. "They're considering  _surrender_?" he repeated incredulously. "And this isn't some sort of trick or something?" After three years he'd spent fighting on the front lines, killing and trying not to get killed, watching people around him die, the idea that the war might just…end seemed impossible.

"The Separatist Council," Obi-Wan said, "will almost certainly do whatever they feel most benefits their interests, possibly including suing for peace while the Republic is weak and willing to give them a good deal." He hesitated for a moment, and then added, "Which doesn't rule out this being some sort of trick, of course. That's why the Council has agreed to let me go along."

"Oh," said Anakin.

"They've also okayed you to accompany me, if you wish."

Anakin's first instinct was to say no. Protecting Padmé was still his most important mission, even more important than ending the war. And even if it might be a relief to get away from Coruscant, from the suspicion of the other Jedi and the constant reminders of Palpatine's treachery, he couldn't just  _leave_  if there was the slightest chance his wife's life might still be in danger.

Obi-Wan spoke again before he could say anything. "Padmé thinks you should."

Anakin wondered if Obi-Wan had sensed what he'd been thinking or if he was really just that predictable, and decided he didn't want to know. "You talked to her about it?" he asked, then shook his head. "Never mind. Look, I'll talk to her about it, I guess, but I—"  _I just want to be here to keep her safe, even if probably nothing will happen._

Except… _would_  being here keep her safe?

Recent evidence suggested he might do more harm than good.

"—I'll think about it," he finished. "She really wants me to go?" When Obi-Wan nodded, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. A week ago, or even a day ago, the answer would have been obvious. But knowing what he was capable of choosing, knowing that that he likely had an inherent  _potential_  for darkness that might be greater than he'd realized even in Palpatine's office—

—well, his earlier certainty that  _keeping Padmé safe_  and  _being anywhere near her_  were one and the same had been seriously thrown into question. And if she herself thought it would be better for him to go halfway across the galaxy…

Maybe that wasn't fair. Padmé hadn't seemed afraid of him, and logically he knew she was probably just thinking of the importance of the mission or something like that. But the fact remained that she wanted him to go, and she'd proved better than him at knowing what was best for both of them lately. "Okay," he said aloud. "Fine. Where did you say the meeting's going to be?"

Obi-Wan gave him a quick smile at the answer, and now that the decision was made, he couldn't help a small thrill of excitement at the idea of getting off-planet for a day or two and  _doing_  something. "Mustafar," Obi-Wan replied. "It's a lava planet in the Atravis sector. Apparently the Separatists have a base there."

For some reason, Anakin felt a pang of foreboding at the planet's name. He shook it off—he was pretty sure he'd never heard of the place. "Right," he said. "And we leave…"

"Tomorrow morning," Obi-Wan answered him. "You have some time to talk it over with Padmé tonight in case you're thinking of changing your mind." Good. And he could remind her to check in with the healers again, even though she might get annoyed at him for it. "Since the Jedi aren't officially involved, we'll be meeting Senator Organa early in the morning and taking one of his private ships," Obi-Wan continued. "Because the negotiations aren't formal yet, they're only planned to last a day or two at most, so you shouldn't need to do a huge amount of preparation."

Even without his concern for Padmé, Anakin wasn't sure he would have wanted to spend any longer than that in the presence of sleemos like Nute Gunray. He bid Obi-Wan goodbye and went back to waiting for Padmé's return, spirits slightly higher than they'd been an hour before. The mission could maybe give him some time alone with Obi-Wan, a chance to bring up his Plagueis discovery. It was probably irrational, but Obi-Wan had always seemed less like a Council member and more like a friend when they were away from the Temple.

A straightforward mission. A chance to help end the war that had been wearing him down day by day for over three years. The opportunity to do something productive  _without_  being manipulated into it by Palpatine. And only a few hours away from Padmé if she decided she needed him back.

The more Anakin thought about it, the more he was looking forward to going to Mustafar.


	21. Crucible

Morning dawned on Coruscant. Amid the hustle and bustle of the city-planet's trillion residents, a ship containing one Jedi Knight, one Jedi Master, and the Senator from Alderaan quietly took off from a spaceport in the government district and set a course along the Hydian Way to a little-known lava planet in the Atravis sector.

Anakin settled back in the pilot's seat after making the jump to hyperspace. He'd slept better the previous night than he had the night before that—though he'd woken twice due to nightmares, they hadn't been vivid or memorable enough to keep him from falling back to sleep, for which he was grateful. Padmé had sounded concerned about him when they'd talked yesterday evening, although she'd encouraged him to go on this mission, just as Obi-Wan had said, and he didn't want to worry her further.

Obi-Wan himself, on the other hand, he  _was_  going to have to worry further whether he wanted to or not. It could only be a matter of time before the Council discovered Plagueis's notes anyhow, he'd finally decided, and the prospect that Obi-Wan might be able to help him deal with the discovery outweighed his anxiety about what his friend would think if Anakin told him the truth.

Well. Almost outweighed his anxiety. He'd decided to put the conversation off until after this mission was over, and he couldn't entirely convince himself it was just because he didn't want to chance Organa interrupting it.

His reasons for delaying weren't entirely a rationalization, though, or so he told himself—confessing to Obi-Wan would undoubtedly take up a lot of the older man's attention, and this was an important enough mission that Anakin didn't want to distract him. Particularly because he'd had a bad feeling about the assignment ever since they'd lifted off. Nothing strong, nothing specific…just a general sort of uneasiness that had him on his guard.

"Nice flying," said a voice from behind him, and Anakin twisted in his seat to see Organa giving him an approving look.

"Thanks," he muttered, setting the autopilot for the rest of the journey. The Senator seemed like a decent man from the times Anakin had encountered him—not to mention that both Obi-Wan and Padmé liked him—but he wasn't really in the mood for small talk. Even though he'd had good reasons to leave, he couldn't help but feel a pang of nervousness as they traveled farther and farther away from Coruscant and Padmé. If she went into labor early; if his visions  _did_  come true…

Organa interrupted his thoughts. "Listen, Anakin. Padmé told me about you two, about her pregnancy." She  _had_? They'd decided not to keep it secret, but she hadn't mentioned that she'd told anyone other than her parents and the Jedi. Over in the co-pilot's seat, Obi-Wan looked similarly surprised—evidently he hadn't known Organa knew either. "I just wanted to offer you congratulations," the Senator continued. "Best of luck to both of you once the children are born."

Once the children were born. If Padmé even survived the process. Half-remembered images of her in pain, dying, danced before his eyes. "Thank you," he replied, when he realized he'd let the silence stretch out too long, and stood up abruptly. "I have to go…" Realizing he couldn't think of a suitable excuse for leaving, he trailed off and walked out of the cockpit without another word.

* * *

 Bail stared after Anakin's retreating back, then turned to look at Obi-Wan with a puzzled look on his face. "Did I say something wrong?"

Obi-Wan winced. So much for a peaceful journey… "It's a long story," he said, and gave a moment's consideration to how best to explain the situation without giving away too much that Anakin or Padmé might prefer to keep private. "Most of the Jedi Council still isn't happy with their relationship," he explained eventually. "Between that, the clone issue, and what happened with Palpatine, he's under some stress. Don't worry about it."

Bail walked over and sat down in the pilot's seat, spinning to face him. "First of all, what did happen with Palpatine? Aside from the heavily-edited version of the recording the rest of the Senate saw, I mean." He gave Obi-Wan a look. "And secondly, how are  _you_  holding up after all that?"

"I'm not sure precisely how much of the recording was shown to the Senate," Obi-Wan prevaricated, ignoring the second question entirely. He knew a few things that had certainly been cut out—Anakin's near-fall, for example—but he hadn't been involved in deciding what was to be made public as evidence of Palpatine's treachery.

"We saw everything that happened from when you entered the office to Palpatine's admission that he was a Sith and his murder of the three other Jedi," Bail replied. "And then after that, the timestamp skips fourteen minutes ahead to when Palpatine attacked you with Force-lightning and Anakin killed him." He shook his head. "Gotta admit, Obi-Wan, I'm pretty damn curious about what happened in those fourteen minutes, and I'm not the only one. And don't think I didn't notice that you haven't answered my other question."

"What happened is…confidential," Obi-Wan said. "And I'm fine."

Bail snorted. "Confidential, right." He leaned forward in his seat. "Look, Obi-Wan. After what happened at Zigoola, I'm willing to trust that if the Jedi want to keep Sith business secret, they have a good reason for it. But not everyone's going to be so understanding about missing vital information about why the Jedi tried to arrest and then killed their beloved leader."

Obi-Wan frowned. "I thought public opinion was against Palpatine," he said. "He clearly attacked us first, then the clones ambushed us without reason…"

"Well, sure," Bail allowed. "Clones open fire in the Senate chamber and a Jedi Master steps in to stop them, that gets you support. And when people first realized the extent of Order Sixty-Six, there was a lot of sympathy." He folded his hands behind his head, looking at Obi-Wan intently. "But now that's wearing off, and some people are starting to ask questions. What happened before he died the Jedi don't want people to know about, why Jedi teams took most of the evidence out of his office and apartment before anyone else could get to it…the fact that the Separatists have copped to being led by a man named Sidious is good enough for most, combined with the recording of his admission, but not for everybody."

Obi-Wan swore under his breath. "We couldn't just have Sith artifacts and notes on dark Force techniques floating around in government evidence rooms!" he protested. "And the gap in the video…it would do more harm than good if it were to become public knowledge."

Bail held up his hands. "You don't have to convince  _me_ , Obi-Wan," he said. "I may not agree with the Jedi Council about everything, but in this case I'm sure they have their reasons. And I haven't been a supporter of Palpatine for a good while now anyway."

"But you're saying some Senators think we…what?" Obi-Wan cast around. "Made the whole thing up? Faked the recording? Did something to provoke the attacks?"  _Blast._ As if the clones and the Separatists weren't enough to be on guard against. With allies like these, who needed enemies?

"Nothing so extreme as that," Bail assured him. "You're probably lucky it was you and Anakin there at the end; you two have had damn near as much good publicity as Palpatine himself, and people aren't as willing to cry foul against the two of you as they might have been if it had been other Jedi. Even Padmé's presence was a good thing, that it wasn't only the Jedi's word that what happened, happened. But just because most people have accepted Palpatine was really a traitor doesn't mean they can't be suspicious of the Jedi as well. The Order hasn't been as popular recently as it used to be, Obi-Wan."

"No," Obi-Wan said quietly. "It hasn't." Not since the war began and images of the Jedi acting as soldiers had been broadcast across the galaxy. By the pacifists of the Republic, they'd been painted as too violent; to everyone else, simply seeing them losing battles and being shot down or blown to pieces had been enough to shatter the illusion of infallibility. By now, most every aspect of Jedi life had come under scrutiny by the HoloNet at one point or another. There had been a time when being a Jedi had meant being trusted—indeed, it was the Order's reputation for impartiality that had often made the difference in negotiations between feuding individuals or planets—but that was no longer the case.

It had been Palpatine who'd initially encouraged the Jedi to cultivate a greater media presence—to become the face of the war, he'd said, so that the people of the galaxy would have relatable individuals to support in the conflict. Had that been part of the plan, to sow distrust and undermine the reputation of the Jedi so that he'd be more easily able to label them traitors? Or was Obi-Wan overthinking it, being paranoid?

He was beginning to empathize with Anakin. Constantly second-guessing whether Palpatine's actions had been part of a nefarious plan or not was difficult enough, even when those plans hadn't involved him personally.

"How much backlash might we be facing?" he asked.

Bail shrugged. "Hard to say," he said. "Nobody'll accuse you of anything outright—nobody important, anyways. Bad politics to point fingers at a group that just had over a third of its members killed. But I'd be prepared for some pointed questions about the gap in the recording, the missing evidence—and you know how rumors can fly on the HoloNet. If you don't give good answers, people'll start speculating, and probably not in your favor."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Just what we needed," he muttered. "A media inquisition. Well, thank you for the warning."

"No problem," Bail replied. "And it's not all bad news, you know. The Jedi do still have some supporters, not just Padmé and I. If you're careful, this whole thing could blow over without too much of a crisis."

The way Obi-Wan's luck had been going lately, he was inclined to doubt it.

* * *

 The lava on Mustafar roiled, swirls of smoke and burning cinders leaving the air barely breathable. After a quick exchange of identification codes and landing coordinates, the  _Tantive IV_ settled onto a landing platform surrounded by a river of fire.

A small group of Separatists was waiting for the arrivals. Some of them Anakin recognized through the viewscreen on sight—after all the assassination attempts Nute Gunray had made on Padmé, he would know the Nemoidian anywhere. And then there was Poggle the Lesser, whom he'd once threatened and Force-choked for information that he'd needed to help Ahsoka.

Hopefully that wouldn't come up. Obi-Wan had never found out about it, and while it was a hell of a lot less than the other things he'd already confessed to, Anakin preferred for it to stay that way.

Others he only knew from seeing them on the HoloNet and war briefings, and there were a few he had no recognition of whatsoever. Aides, maybe, or else he just hadn't been paying attention.

Organa went down the ramp first to greet them, for which Anakin was grateful. Peaceful negotiation had never really been his thing, and  _especially_  not when it was with a group so greedy they'd started a war that had killed millions of people across the galaxy. At least nobody was expecting him to do any of the talking here; that was a job for Obi-Wan and Organa. Trying to compose his face to match the careful diplomatic mask he could see on Obi-Wan, he followed the other two men down the ramp.

Organa extended a hand when he reached the delegation. None of them took it, and with the way they were all staring over the Senator's shoulder, Anakin wasn't surprised. They probably hadn't expected him and Obi-Wan to be here. At least, Anakin  _hoped_  they hadn't—if the few people who'd known about the Jedi involvement in this mission couldn't be trusted, no-one could.

"Senator Organa." Gunray's eyes darted over nervously as Obi-Wan walked up to Bail's side, Anakin close behind. "And…Masters Jedi. What a pleasant surprise." His face had paled to a sickly pink color. "So, ah,  _sorry_  for the loss of your comrades."

Biting back a growl, Anakin clenched his fists in his robes. As many Jedi had died by the hands of the Separatist armies over the past three years as had in Order 66.  _Sorry. I'll just bet._  The last time he had seen Gunray in person, he'd been chasing him down with a group of clones on Cato Nemoidia. He'd barely gotten a glimpse of the Viceroy before being cut off by a group of super battle droids and then forced to go to Obi-Wan's rescue; Gunray and his entourage had escaped.

Anakin hadn't expected the next time they'd meet to be, well, a  _meeting_. A capture had been more along the lines of what he'd fantasized.

If Obi-Wan was feeling the same annoyance, it wasn't showing on his face. He merely nodded at the delegation and said, "We hope we can be of assistance to these negotiations, Viceroy. The Republic is grateful for your willingness to cooperate."

Gunray's flat-nosed face wrinkled slightly, though whether it was because he was feeling intimidated by the Jedi presence or distasteful of the idea that he was helping the Republic in some way, Anakin couldn't tell. "Of course, of course." With a swirl of his rich robes, he turned and swept through the rest of the delegation, leading them along the wide platform towards the base itself.

"I really hate that guy," Anakin muttered to Obi-Wan under his breath as they followed. He glanced over the side of the platform to the lava running far below. The base seemed to be protected from the elements by the same sort of repulsor-shield technology he'd seen when he'd chased Cad Bane to another part of the planet almost two years before.

 _That_  base had been destroyed and fallen into the lava. He could only hope for better results this time.

"Mind your feelings," Obi-Wan said quietly, a response that sounded automatic, and then: "I don't trust any of them either, but this  _is_  important. Try to be polite. Don't let your personal feelings about them distract you; you don't even need to talk if you don't want to."

Nodding, Anakin stuffed his hands into his pockets. Gunray had tried to kill Padmé, but Padmé wanted these talks to succeed more than anything. He wasn't going to let his own emotions get in the way of that, not again. "I'll behave."

As long as everyone else did.

* * *

 "Dangerous," said Yoda, shifting in his seat. "Dangerous, this path could be."

"Could be," Mace repeated, leaning forward. He and the elderly Grand Master were the only two left in the Council room; everyone else had filed out soon after the meeting ended. "But we can be careful. Nobody's suggesting anybody start using the dark side, and I think as long we keep the matter within the members of this Council it shouldn't get out of hand."

Yoda shook his head. "But where do we draw the line, hmm? This Darth Plagueis, evil and corrupted was he. Not obvious may the influence of the dark side be in his discoveries. Fell into that trap once already did young Skywalker—foolish it would be, for us to do the same."

Rubbing his chin, Mace raised an eyebrow. "Surely  _you_  could attempt it. If you don't think it can be done without the dark side, we'll lock the papers away with the other Sith teachings. But what if it can?" Some had said, when he'd first invented Vaapaad, that it wasn't possible to tread that close to the darkness within and not be affected by it. Those fears weren't unfounded: of the three practitioners of the form, two had eventually fallen.

But Mace hadn't. He wasn't so arrogant as to think he was immune to the lure of the dark side, but there was something to be said for experience and emotional control. Some dangers were only risky if they ended up in the wrong hands. "We already know that some of the things Plagueis discussed aren't exclusively dark techniques," he continued. "Master Yoda, his ideas about using the Force to go to other times and places—there are records of Jedi flow-walking dating back millennia, even though the details have been lost. Plagueis's theories on the subject could help us rediscover it. The notes about raising the dead, killing people through their midichlorians, transferring consciousness from one body to another:  _those_  papers should be locked away for good. But the rest of it—"

"—may be dangerous in more subtle ways, hmm?" Yoda unfolded his legs, standing up and pacing over to one of the room's large windows. He tapped his gimmer stick on the floor. "Or it may not, and the will of the Force it was that we made this discovery." Looking back over his shoulder, he fixed Mace with an unsettling gaze that carried the weight of centuries. "Either way, a risk in our decision."

"Which is why we keep it contained to the Council," said Mace. "At least for now."

Yoda nodded, and lowered his eyes to the floor. "For  _now_ ," he murmured, and then: "Discuss this further, all of us should."

Rising to his feet, Mace tilted his head in agreement. Yoda's judgment was something he'd learned to trust implicitly—if the Grand Master wanted to be cautious, then cautious they would be. There was no hurry.

"What about the information on Skywalker? Do you think we should tell him?" he asked, as the two of them headed towards the door. The references to the boy's origins, in both Plagueis's notes and Palpatine's, had been…interesting, to say the least.

Yoda looked over and up at him. "No further information will we find, I think," he said. "Certain answers we do not have. Better, it might be, for that question to remain unasked, though young Obi-Wan might know better than your or I how he would take it."

And Obi-Wan had wanted to tell the wayward Knight everything, though he'd agreed to wait and see if more definitive information was found in the rest of the papers. Yet another dilemma.

Sighing, Mace strode from the room.

* * *

 Two Jedi, one Republic Senator, and more than a dozen Separatist leaders and aides walked into the base on Mustafar.

To the Jedi and the Senator, the presence of more than a few B1 battle droids and armored Nemoidian guards was cause for wariness, if not surprise. This was, after all, a  _base_ , and a military presence was to be expected.

That didn't mean that hands didn't slip onto lightsaber hilts and blaster grips as they walked down a narrow hallway that led to the conference room. When no ambush came, they relaxed, if only slightly.

Nute Gunray didn't relax. Partly, this was because he hadn't relaxed in days. After over a decade of being backed by a powerful Sith Lord, of having the path to victory laid clearly before him by a being who seemed to be able to make the galaxy dance on his strings, the sudden death of his benefactor—and of his assurances that the Separatist Council would be rewarded handsomely in the new galactic order—had turned his complacency on his head. If all had gone as planned, he knew, he would have received the order from Sidious to surrender and shut down the droid armies days ago. If all had gone as planned, he would be basking in the luxury he'd been promised in return for the years-long part he'd played.

But it hadn't gone as planned. Sidious was dead, and he doubted that the new leaders of the Senate would show him the same favor. Introducing a peace treaty when the Republic was distracted enough with internal issues that they might be willing to agree to terms designed to support his self-interest was a last-ditch attempt at salvaging this disaster. With Dooku dead, even the back-up plan of  _actually_  maintaining a functional government separate from the Republic seemed unlikely to succeed.

Yet that wasn't all that was making him nervous. Partly, Gunray didn't relax because he'd noticed one of his associates slipping away down a side corridor as they'd walked, and he had no idea what his fellow Councilor was up to. Poggle the Lesser was more of a hated ally than a true compatriot, and Gunray trusted the Geonosian no further than he could throw him.

Which was true of most beings. Nute Gunray had found greed and self-interest to be far more reliable companions than  _other people._

Pasting the closest approximation to a human smile that he could muster on his face, he led his guests—and why did it always have to be Jedi?—into the conference room and seated himself one of the dark, high-backed chairs. The chair at the head of the table, of course. Symbolic power could be as effective as the real thing: if the Jedi couldn't sense his desperation, perhaps they would assume his position was less precarious than it was and be more willing to cede to his demands.

Perhaps.

The three humans sat down, and so did the rest of the Council. Poggle entered the room quietly and seated himself with the rest. Gunray glared at him, hoping to convey a sense of authority and displeasure, but the Geonosian didn't even glance at him.

No matter. If the Republic was willing to treat, Gunray would find a path to his own benefit.

It was, after all, what he did best.


	22. Ignite

It is a testament to the stubbornness of sentient beings that disagreements so often devolve into violence, into pouring massive amounts of money and manpower against the opponent—causing death and property damage in sometimes unthinkable levels—when such conflicts are almost inevitably damaging to both sides. Somehow, even bloodshed becomes less unreasonable than simply talking it out.

Diplomacy is, to put it simply, difficult. It is especially difficult when attempted between two groups who have been fighting a war with each other until very recently. And it is  _especially_ especially difficult when one of those groups is formed of a number of self-interested individuals none of whom can seem to agree on what the goal of the talks should be—or indeed, whether said talks were worth entering into in the first place.

Such was the situation in the cramped, overheated meeting room on Mustafar. Even the finest in modern temperature-control systems couldn't fully negate the searing heat of the lava below, and opening a window, if such a thing were possible, would only have made matters worse. After over three hours of back-and-forth, the various being in the room—and the humans in particular—were beginning to feel the effects. Perspiration, headaches, and a thirst that the tepid beverages that had been provided (a bitter, leafy concoction from Cato Nemoidia that was favored by the planet's inhabitants and nobody else) couldn't quite quench were starting to take a toll. Even if the negotiations had been going well, it would have been a miserable setting.

And they weren't.

Bail Organa explained the concessions the Senate was willing to make in exchange for the Confederacy laying down arms and allowing itself to be reunified into the Republic; the terms were met with cautious agreement from Nute Gunray...and vicious, vocal opposition from Shu Mai and San Hill, with resentful glares from many of the others. When Obi-Wan Kenobi offered full immunity for the CIS leaders provided they agreed to a peace treaty in a timely fashion, Poggle the Lesser made it clear that he believed it was the Republic which, bereft of most its armies, should be the one surrendering—if peace was, in fact, to be had. As owner of the droid foundries on Geonosis, Poggle would only profit (quite literally) from continued aggressions, and everyone at the table knew it.

The day, in short, had not been a particularly productive one.

When Gunray finally called for a break, the pronouncement was met with more than a little relief by the contingent from the Republic. The three humans quickly stepped out into the corridor which, at the very least, wasn't quite as stuffy.

"Well, that went well," commented Anakin Skywalker. They were the first words he'd spoken since the meeting formally began; his contributions to the negotiations had consisted mainly of folded arms and a menacing glare at whomever Kenobi or Organa had currently happened to be disagreeing with.

Organa snorted. "It could have gone  _worse_ ," he corrected. "And a few hours from now, they'll be as fed up as we are and willing to compromise with us and each other so that we can reach an agreement." Pausing, he shrugged his shoulders and twitched his mouth to the side. "Hopefully."

"Oh, yes, that went very well," said Kenobi. "Just look at all the compromises we've found that  _won't_ work. We'll come up with the terms for a treaty soon enough by process of elimination." He dodged an elbow from Skywalker, then quirked a smile at the look on the younger Jedi's face. "Patience, Anakin. You didn't really expect the disagreements behind three years of war to be solved in three hours of negotiations, did you? These things take time."

Skywalker looked unimpressed. "I don't think all the time in the galaxy is going to solve this one, Master." He gestured back into the conference room. "That would require at least some of these sleemos to be willing to look past their own self-interest. They aren't even agreeing with each other, let alone us!"

Rubbing his beard, Kenobi considered for a moment. "We don't need them to make a formal peace agreement yet," he said thoughtfully. "Though that would, of course, be nice. But if we can just get them all to agree to a temporary cease-fire, until things have quieted down back on Coruscant—"

"Gunray will go for it," added Organa. "And Shu Mai seemed to be wavering. I think we can convince Hill and Argente that they'll benefit as well, if we can get Mai and the Commerce Guild on board. That'll probably take a few more hours, at least."

Skywalker didn't respond, though anyone who knew the young man well could have guessed that he was contemplating the expediency of more aggressive negotiations. Instead he turned to Kenobi and asked, "Do you think I could get a comm signal from here to Coruscant? I'd like to check in with Padmé."

"No harm in trying." Kenobi glanced at his wrist-chrono. "And we still have fifteen minutes before we're supposed to go back in, so you have some time."

Nodding, Skywalker took a few steps away and began fiddling with his comlink. After less than a minute he returned to the others, looking puzzled. "That's odd," he said. "I can't get through at all."

Kenobi frowned. "You can't get a signal there?" he asked. "Or we're being jammed?" Flicking on his own comlink, he too was met only by static. There was a pause, and then each of the three men reached for their weapons. As earlier in the evening, hands grabbed for lightsaber hilts and blaster grips as they turned to face the room they had just exited moments earlier. "A trap?" said Organa, eyeing the guards and battle droids at the other end of the corridor.

The two Jedi glanced at each other. "Our specialty," murmured Kenobi, a touch more humor in his voice than was perhaps appropriate for the situation.

Skywalker nodded. "Time to spring it," he said. "I think it's time we asked our hosts a few questions." Moving his hand in a quick sweeping gesture, he opened the door to the conference room with more force than was entirely necessary and stalked inside.

But the betrayal hadn't come from that direction. Questioning the Separatist Council was an act of futility; all but one were ignorant of the source of the jamming. In fact, they themselves had been thrown into panic and confusion when Wat Tambor had discovered the communications blackout while attempting to confer with others from the Techno Union.

Only Poggle the Lesser knew where the jamming was coming from, for he was the one who had decided to bring the negotiations to an end. Only Poggle, and the ships high above the Mustafar atmosphere responsible for emitting the signal that was scrambling all outgoing transmissions.

As the Jedi continued their fruitless interrogation, landing transports began raining down towards the planet's surface. The ships were full of men, identical in their DNA and in their purpose. They were here for one reason and one reason alone: to kill Jedi.

The clones had come to Mustafar.

* * *

Padmé Amidala sat back in her chair in her office, rubbing her forehead at the dull ache that was beginning to throb behind her eyes.

The investigation into Damask wasn't going  _badly_ , per se. Finding anything by just her second day on the job was more than she'd expected, but every lead she started with seemed to lead into a dead end or into more and more layers of complications, of shell companies and money trails that just quietly disappeared.

Or into perfectly legitimate transactions. But as Palpatine had proved, Sith could work their own ends as easily using the system as they could by subverting it. There was no way to tell if those trails were worth following. For example, she'd found a large transfer of funds into a Coruscant-based company with no other records that had later been bought out by none other than Dooku of Serenno shortly after he'd left the Jedi Order. That was a clue if she'd ever seen one, if only she could figure out where the money had gone from there.

A message to the Banking Clan asking if they had any records about the company, or the initial transfer, had so far not garnered a response.

But that wasn't what was giving her the headache.

"I have no comment," she repeated for what might have been the dozenth time. None of the small group of Senators who had been slowly gathering in her office over the course of the past several hours looked impressed with the answer, and she sighed.

"I  _told_  you," she said. "When I went into Palpatine's office, I found him attacking the two Jedi. He pushed Knight Skywalker aside and started shooting electricity at Master Kenobi. Luckily, Jedi Skywalker was able to intervene. That's  _it_ ; that's all that happened."

"If nothing happened, why can't we see the tape?" The question came from Garm Bel Iblis, and Padmé winced—it would be easier if it were only her political opponents or the Senators who she knew to be selfish if not corrupt that she needed to blow off, but that wasn't the case. Bel Iblis, Mon Mothma, Chi Eekway, and a number of others in the room were her friends and allies, the Senators that she'd collaborated with on numerous occasions and plotted with only a few days before to remove Palpatine from power. Good people, who she knew were only trying to represent the public's best interests by discovering the truth of the day that had shaken the Republic to its core.

And she had to lie to them. For Anakin's sake, for the rest of the Jedi who didn't need to be under any more scrutiny and for a galaxy which couldn't handle yet another betrayal, even an aborted one, she had to look her friends in the eyes and lie. Perhaps if there was something of value to the Republic in that recording, she could have made a different choice. As it was, she couldn't imagine the truth bringing anyone anything but pain. Rather than dig herself deeper, she shrugged casually at the question, hating herself for it. "You'd have to ask the Jedi," she said lightly. "They're the ones in charge of the evidence. I don't have a copy of the recording."

"But you were  _there_!" Eekway's words were followed by a round of nods from the others. "If that's all you saw, then something else  _must_ have happened before you entered—aren't you in the least bit curious about what the Jedi are trying to hide?"

Padmé said nothing. Behind the group of Senators, she could see a number of lower-level aides and secretaries loitering just outside her door, all looking as though they were trying very hard to appear as if they had just happened to pause there and were not, in fact, hanging on every word that was being said.

"Unless," Eekway continued in a low voice, "you aren't curious because that  _wasn't_ all you saw _._ " The insinuation hung heavily in the air, a weight on Padmé's heart only reinforced by the accusatory gazes of the rest of her colleagues.

"I have no further comment," she said quietly, as if she were talking to a nosy HoloNet reporter and not her trusted allies. "But I do have work to do. I'd appreciate being left alone so I could continue it." Part of her wondered if she was just making matters worse—with no way to conceal the fact that the Jedi  _were_  hiding something, all she was doing was getting herself involved in the condemnations and conspiracy theories. Yet nor could she bring herself to lie outright and make up a false reason why the tape had been withheld, or to allow the Jedi to face the heat alone for their secrecy by playing along with the idea that she'd entered too late to know what details were being suppressed.

Even so, it was with more than a little regret that she forced herself to hold her head high despite the calculating looks and disapproving silence she received as the other Senators departed. The exodus caused the lingering aides to immediately scuttle back to their work stations; Padmé wondered idly how long it would take before her words would be repeated with speculative commentary about her loyalties at water coolers across the building. Likely, not long at all.

They wouldn't be wrong, of course. She  _was_  hiding something, and helping the Jedi to do the same. In any other situation, she would have been the first to force an investigation if she suspected important evidence was being censored.

It was only several moments after everyone else had left that Padmé noticed Mon Mothma still standing silently in one corner of her office. The Chandrilan Senator wore a neutral expression, her hands clasped behind her back as she eyed Padmé in a way which was neither obviously supportive nor condemning. It wasn't until Padmé met her gaze that she spoke. "You have your reasons, I'm sure." It was a statement, not a question. "Are they good ones?"

Padmé thought of Anakin, what it would do to him if his emotional breakdown and declaration of commitment to the Sith were broadcast, without any of the broader context of Palpatine's manipulations, for the entire galaxy to see. What it would do to the  _Republic_ to see one of their heroes so broken. "I hope so," she said aloud. Mothma nodded in response, and then she too departed.

With a sigh, Padmé turned back to her datapad. Still no message from the Banking Clan, not that she had really expected one. And after deflecting well-meant questions for the past several hours, summoning the concentration to push past her headache to delve deeper into the financial records didn't sound like a particularly appealing prospect. Instead she pulled out her comlink—there was no guarantee that Anakin would be able to answer, but even if the meeting was still in-progress she could at least leave him a recorded message. If there was one thing that the past few days had instilled in her, it was a desire to make sure she and her husband were communicating on the same wavelength.

But Anakin didn't answer, and instead of being redirected to a recording, she was met only with static.

Padmé commed Obi-Wan. When she got the same result, she commed Bail.

And then, without hesitation and using the emergency frequency she'd been given by Masters Yoda and Windu only two days before when she'd first been assigned the Plagueis mission, she commed the Jedi Council.

* * *

"I had nothing to do with this!" protested Nute Gunray, and Anakin didn't believe him.

"Those are clones out there," he hissed, grabbing the Nemoidian Viceroy by the collar. "Everybody knows they're hunting Jedi, and it wasn't the  _Republic_ that let them know Obi-Wan and I were here!" There was no mistaking the familiar gunships appearing on the holomonitor in front of them—Anakin had ridden LAAT/i transports down to the surface of more planets than he could count over the course of the war's various campaigns, and even from inside the conference room, he could imagine he could hear the hum of their engines.

"Anakin." Obi-Wan's voice was tight, and despite his neutral expression Anakin couldn't help but notice the tension in the way he was holding himself. "We will determine who the leak came from later, once the situation is dealt with. For now we should focus on solutions."

Gunray nodded quickly. "Precisely, precisely," he agreed. "If you could just take care of this situation—I'm _sure_ everything can be cleared up—"

"And then," said Obi-Wan, crossing his arms and staring the Viceroy down coolly, "we shall determine where this betrayal originated, and deal with the perpetrator  _appropriately_."

Gunray gulped, stepping slightly away and looking wildly from one man to the other. "I swear, Jedi, I had no hand in this!"

Balling his hand into a fist, Anakin stepped forward. "Really?" he asked, canting his head to the side as he backed the Nemoidian into the console behind him. Slimy tendrils of anxiety flailed out from the other being in the Force. "Then why do you feel so nervous?" The question came out as something close to a snarl, and he felt Obi-Wan's hand land on his upper arm and squeeze.

"Because my base is under attack!" cried Gunray, as Anakin backed down slightly at the pressure Obi-Wan was exerting. "And because you're  _threatening_  me. Help!"

Predictably, none of the other Separatists huddled in a corner of the room made so much as a move in the trio's direction. "Like I'm gonna believe  _that_ —"

"Anakin." Obi-Wan tugged him until they were face to face, and didn't let go of his arm. "He's telling the truth."

Anakin opened his mouth to snap a response, then stopped at the realization that Obi-Wan was right—Gunray's words, much to his annoyance, rang clear with frightened honesty. "Fine," he said. "But somebody is responsible for this."

"Does the  _who_  matter right now?" asked a voice from behind Anakin, who jumped a little: he hadn't noticed Organa returning from the room's main comm-console. "We still can't get through, so there's no backup coming. How long will the base's defenses hold?"

"Lord Sidious promised us this was the most secure place in the galaxy," Gunray said quietly, in a tone which implied that he knew as well as Anakin just how much  _Lord Sidious's_  promises meant. Then, sounding slightly more hopeful: "The shield technology is state-of-the-art, no expenses spared—and I should know, the Trade Federation paid for most of the construction. In theory, we should be able to stand against an  _army_."

In theory. Wonderful. "You do remember that the clones are acting under Palpatine's orders right?" Anakin pressed. "Are you  _sure_  there aren't any weaknesses in the defenses? A code they could use to get in?" It was a pointless question, and he knew it—he'd been fighting a war long enough to know that every defense had its vulnerabilities, and fighting aside the clones long enough to that they'd find them—but there was something satisfying in the way Gunray paled at the question.

"I—no," he stuttered, "no, there can't be any loopholes; everything is managed from the control room. The defenses simply can't be lowered from the outside."

"And yet," said Obi-Wan slowly, "someone likely leaked our presence from  _inside_ the base."

There was a moment of silence. Anakin spun around, searching the group on the other side of the room. "Is everyone here?" he demanded. "Has  _anyone_  left this room?"

The Separatists looked around at each other with wary expressions, but it was Obi-Wan who figured it out first. "Poggle," he said. "Poggle the Lesser. Where did he go?"

"He stayed behind earlier as well," said Gunray, a touch of panic in his voice. "He could have commed them—I  _told_  you it wasn't me—"

"Forget that," Anakin snapped, exchanging a look with Obi-Wan. So much for the peaceful diplomacy mission. Adrenaline was beginning to pump through his veins, the familiar excitement brought on by the promise of imminent action. "We need to stop him, and we need to do it now before he lowers the base's defenses."

Gunray appeared horrified; behind him, some of the other Separatist leaders wore similar expressions. "But—but—if he drops the shields, we'll be vulnerable. The repulsors will be exposed. A few direct hits could collapse the whole base into the lava!"

 _Wonderful_. "That," growled Anakin, "seems like a pretty _kriffing major_ design flaw _._ "

"Complain about the architecture later, all right?" Obi-Wan began to move towards the door. "Stopping him now, remember? If we can get to him in time, we won't need to worry about deficient construction."

With one last glare at Gunray, Anakin turned to follow Obi-Wan from the room. Before he could catch up, a robed figure scrambled into his path. When Anakin tried to step around the shaking Nemoidian—Rune Haako, he was ninety-percent certain—the other being also stepped to the side, cutting him off. "Wait!" said Haako. "You—you have to stay here and protect us. Poggle had a head start; he'll have those shields down before you can get there, and then  _we'll_  be left undefended!"

For a moment, Anakin stared at Haako, torn between the equally inappropriate desires of wanting to laugh and wanting to punch the Nemoidian in the face. "You want us to protect you?" he asked.  _You have got to be kidding me._  "Why would we do that?"

"You're  _Jedi_ ," Haako replied, as though it explained everything.

"You fought a war to destroy the Jedi!"

Obi-Wan stopped just shy of the doorway. "What Anakin means to say," he cut in, "is that since the clones are almost certainly targeting the two of us, your safety can likely best be served by staying as far away from us as possible."

Shu Mai stepped forward, arms folded across her chest. "Then perhaps you should leave, Jedi," she said. "The clones have no quarrel with the Confederacy anymore, and  _you_  were not the one we invited."

Despite his irritation at the selfishness of her words, Anakin glanced over at Obi-Wan and shrugged. "She has a point. If we can sneak out of here—"

"Then the clones will destroy the base with us in it!" Gunray interrupted. "You can't just  _leave_  us!"

Obi-Wan rubbed his forehead. "I rather imagine they'll notice us leaving and focus their fire on our ship instead," he said, which, for Anakin, at least was not as reassuring a prospect as Obi-Wan's placating tone made it out to be.

Organa let out a humorless bark of laughter "And  _I_ rather imagine they'll ambush you the moment you walk out the door." He shook his head. "I should go. The clones haven't been targeting non-Jedi in any of their other attacks—there's a good chance that they'd let me pass without killing me, and if I can just get the ship into the air, I might be able to pick you two up so we can get the hell out of here."

"They'll start shooting at you the moment they realize you're returning to the base," Obi-Wan pointed out. "That's a terrible idea."

Bail shrugged. "The ship has shields," he said. "Not much in the way of weapons, but I think it could hold out as long as someone does some fancy flying to stop us from getting blown up on the way out." He looked over at Anakin. "That's your specialty, right?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "Very well." He too looked over at Anakin. "I suppose that would give us a chance to stop Poggle—or at least reverse whatever he tries to do—so that the base isn't left undefended."

Anakin didn't particularly care about the base, or any of the people who were soon to be left in it, but he couldn't think of much else in the way of options. While he was sure he and Obi-Wan could defend themselves against the blasterfire of any number of clones long enough to run to the ship, there wasn't much they'd be able to do against this amount of artillery.

Not to mention that this plan would give him the chance to encounter the treacherous Geonosian. Making a run for it  _without_  trying to at least apprehend the traitor just didn't sound very appealing. "Fine," he said. "Let's do it." He turned to the Separatist leaders. "If you really don't want Obi-Wan and I to leave you, you can come with us to the control room. If you want to stay away from us, be my guest."

Without waiting to see if any of them would follow, he spun on his heel and stalked out of the room, drawing even with Obi-Wan as they entered the hallway.

Organa caught up to the pair of them. "Good luck," he said, and Anakin nodded at him as he turned and set off down the corridor.

"May the Force be with you," Obi-Wan called after him, then turned and looked at Anakin. "Shall we?"

"Control room's that way," Anakin said, pointing down the other end of the hallway in the direction he'd seen on the map Gunray had shown them earlier.

Together, they ran.


	23. Ashes

They were just over halfway to the control room when the alarms began to blare, a high-pitched wailing sound that seemed to penetrate Anakin's entire body as he ran. Without stopping for breath, he shared a glance with Obi-Wan—if the clones had already breached the base, then they were already out of time.

Obi-Wan didn't break stride. "Keep going," he called over his shoulder. "We might be able to get the shields up again before the rest of the army enters."

Anakin nodded, though Obi-Wan had already turned away again, and increased his pace. Rounding a corner, he drew level with the older man, and together the two of them flew down the final hallway towards the control room. With a motion of his hand and a thrust of the Force, Anakin threw the door open.

Sure enough, Poggle the Lesser stood not fifteen feet away. The Geonosian was bent over a panel, but he jerked away from the console as they entered and twisted his body to face them. Anakin took no small amount of pleasure in the way Poggle's eyes widened at the sight of them, how he took half a step backward before turning and running for the door.

"Going somewhere?" Obi-Wan asked as Anakin swept his hand downwards, slamming closed the three sets of blast doors spaced around the room. Anakin began circling clockwise around the edge of the room, stalking closer and closer to Poggle, who had stopped dead in front of the now-closed exit. Without even having to look, he knew Obi-Wan was prowling just as intently in the other direction.

Together, the two of them cornered the Archduke of Geonosis. The alarmed clicking sounds emanating from Poggle rose in pitch; though Anakin didn't understand the language, at the moment, it didn't really matter. No need for Threepio to be here to translate—the language of fear was universal.

"Reverse what you've done," Obi-Wan commanded. "Raise the base's defenses. So long as no harm is done, the Republic will almost certainly be lenient."

Obi-Wan's words, were, unfortunately, probably true. From the sound of it, the Senate was desperate enough to agree to almost anything so long as the war ended. Jerking his head at the console, Anakin drew out his lightsaber. "Do it."

Poggle's clicking had a snappish quality to it this time, and he gave a sharp shake of his head that conveyed his meaning even more clearly. Apparently Obi-Wan's words had convinced him they wouldn't do him any harm; he no longer looked afraid. And while Anakin knew better than to harm an unarmed enemy—particularly with Obi-Wan standing right next to him—well…

Sometimes a little motivation could go a long way. He took another step forward, igniting his lightsaber and holding it aloft. When Poggle didn't appear impressed, Anakin angled the blade towards the Separatist leader's neck. A pang of concern tugged along the bond he shared with Obi-Wan; he tossed a look over his shoulder that he hoped conveyed reassurance:  _I'm okay, I'm under control. I won't snap._ In the past, Obi-Wan hadn't interfered with him getting aggressive when the situation called for it so long as he didn't go too far—when he'd interrogated that Toydarian on Utapau, for example—but then, a lot had changed in the past few weeks, and mostly in ways that had been Anakin's fault.

Thankfully, the older man stayed silent. Anakin wondered if he would be showing the same level of trust if he'd seen what happened last time Anakin had needed to use... _persuasive techniques_...on Poggle the Lesser. Poggle himself clearly hadn't forgotten. Though it was difficult to read the expression on the Geonosian's insectoid face, he had drawn back another step and was holding his command staff defensively in front of him. "I know you can understand Basic," Anakin told him. "Raise the defenses."

Again, Poggle didn't respond. With a snarl, Anakin took two quick strides forward, knocking the staff to the floor and pushing the Geonosian back a step until his back was pressed against the console. Poggle's eyes widened as Anakin brandished his lightsaber until it hummed inches away from his throat, and he clicked something vicious-sounding.

"Enough," came Obi-Wan's voice from behind, and Anakin reluctantly let go. When Anakin turned to face him, the older Jedi added. "It'll be faster to do it ourselves. Can you figure out the controls?"

Anakin examined the section of buttons closest to where Poggle had been standing when they'd first walked in. "I think so. We just need to—"

He cut himself off, immediately on hyperalert at a sharp current of  _danger_  echoing through the Force. Turning to Obi-Wan, he opened his mouth to ask if the other man had sensed it. Before he could get the words out, Obi-Wan's hand was on his shoulder, yanking him harshly downward.

Anakin lost his balance, but he hadn't yet hit the floor when the explosion came. He crashed to the ground, ears ringing, Obi-Wan landing half on top of him, and immediately rolled to his feet. Blinking against momentary blindness, he ignited his lightsaber. Beside him, he heard Obi-Wan do the same.

His eyes cleared. Through the opening—what used to be the door—he could see clone troopers emerging through the smoke, blasters raised. Within moments Anakin was forced to begin deflecting blaster fire, batting them back towards the door.

"Time to go!" Obi-Wan called through the noise. Anakin nodded and began backing towards the nearest door. Sparing a glance at Poggle, who had scrambled out of the way of the blasterfire and was watching the clones target the pair of them with an unreadable expression, he barely resisted the urge to deflect a blaster bolt in the Geonosian's direction.

Instead he focused on the clones. It took little effort to fall into the patterns of dodging and deflecting incoming fire that he'd become all too familiar with over the past three years; his lightsaber seemed like an extension of his arm, and Obi-Wan's presence like an extension of his  _self._ The Force was strong here, Anakin realized for the first time, the energy of it humming like electricity through his veins and extending out to connect him to every other being in the room.

Reaching the edge of the room, Anakin ended his retreat. Standing his ground, he moved to cover the blaster bolts aimed at Obi-Wan as well as the older man began to cut a hole through the blast doors. Even so, there were enough clones that he couldn't stop them all; unlike droids, it took more than a single shot to penetrate their armor, and in the time it took to take one out of action, the others had already advanced.

The sound of a lightsaber deactivating from behind told him that Obi-Wan had finished his task, and he heard the metallic  _clank_  of the cut-out section of the door hitting the floor. Seeing the other Jedi duck deftly through the hole out of the corner of his eye, Anakin batted several blaster bolts back at the clones who'd fired them in rapid succession, hoping to distract them at least momentarily as he made his own escape.

And then his eye caught on one of the clones near the front of the pack, and he froze. The markings on the armor were as familiar as the Force-signature.

_Rex._

The clone captain— _his_  clone captain, the second-in-command of his own legion—aimed his blaster straight at Anakin's head and pulled the trigger. Caught off guard, Anakin was barely able to raise his lightsaber to deflect the bolt in time. Unlike with the others, he didn't send it back at the perpetrator, instead swatting it to the side where it hit one of the consoles in a shower of sparks. Yet another alarm starting blaring, this one louder and more urgent sounding than the first.

Anakin didn't care. Turning, he dived out into the hallway where Obi-Wan was waiting.

" _There_  you are," the older man said, eying him. With a wave of his hand, Obi-Wan floated the section of door into the air, then cut it in half with a quick swipe of his lightsaber. A Force-push sent the two pieces sailing back through the hole, knocking down several of the clones who were attempting to follow them.

Once more, they ran. This time, though, there was a burning sensation in Anakin's throat and eyes that couldn't be explained by the exertion.

 _Betrayal._  Always betrayal.

A figure darted out from the corner ahead of them, and Anakin raised his lightsaber on instinct. Nute Gunray skidded to a halt, followed shortly after by several of the other Separatist leaders and a small contingent of battle droids. Gunray stared at the lightsaber in alarm, panting for breath.

" _Move_ ," Anakin snapped at him. "Back that way!" He gestured in the direction the group had come from. "The clones are heading this direction."

Gunray's mouth widened into an O-shape.

"Though do allow the droids to continue," Obi-Wan added. A quick order from Gunray and the droids did just that; Anakin couldn't help but reflect on the irony as he and Obi-Wan ran—more slowly now that they weren't on their own, he noted with annoyance. Fighting against clones with battle droids for backup wasn't a situation he'd ever expected to find himself in.

Or wanted to find himself in. He'd seen enough battles to know that the droids relied on overwhelming numbers; they'd be nowhere near a match for this many clones.

"Head deeper into the base," Obi-Wan called towards the front of the line. "Allow Anakin and I to get outside and they won't have reason to target you!"

"We  _can't,_ " cried Gunray. "Don't you hear that alarm? The repulsors are down; this base is going to collapse at any moment!"

Oops, thought Anakin. "Fine," he bit out. "Get to your ship, then." One more corner, and they were almost out. The open air of Mustafar was visible beyond the exit, flares of fire rising and falling.

And clones, a group of about five guarding the doorway. One raised an arm to his mouth and spoke into his comlink when he saw them; the rest drew their blasters. Anakin growled and ignited his lightsaber, ducking back behind the corner.

"I'm starting to get tired of this," he muttered to Obi-Wan, who nodded.

"Wait for Anakin and I to distract them, and then make a run for your ship," the older Jedi ordered the group of Separatists. "Stay together."

With that, the two of them leapt out into the corridor. Immediately they were met with a hail of blasterfire. Dodging and deflecting, not bothering to aim the bolts back in any particular direction, Anakin sprinted down the hallway with Obi-Wan close on his heels. The clones were smart enough to back away as they continued their barrage, but it didn't make a difference. A few swings of Anakin's lightsaber and all five of them crumpled to the ground.

Unsurprisingly, the commotion seemed to have attracted the attention of the other clones in the area, the ones standing by the gunships who were now beginning to point at them and draw into formations. As Obi-Wan had predicted, they ignored completely the group of Separatists now dashing towards a clearly non-military ship on a nearby landing platform. At that, Anakin breathed a sigh of relief: though he couldn't have cared less about the lives of the cowardly and greedy bunch, he liked his and Obi-Wan's chances for making it out of this situation much better now that they wouldn't have to  _babysit._

He glanced around, trying to orient himself even as he prepared to ward off yet another attack. This wasn't the entrance they had originally come in through, which meant that the landing deck with  _their_  ship on it would be somewhere over to the left…With the base in the way, though, it was impossible to tell whether the platform was empty or not.

"Think Organa's got the ship?" he asked Obi-Wan, as the clones began to fire at them again. "Where  _is_  he?" Anakin couldn't help but think it would be nice if the Alderaanian senator dropped out of the sky and picked them up, oh, right about  _now_.

Obi-Wan deflected a bolt with his lightsaber, then craned his head to look over his shoulder. "Can't tell," he responded. "I think we should cut through the base and head back towards the landing platform. He may have run into trouble and need our help."

Another group of clones began to circle around, coming at them from the side; instinctively, Anakin moved until he and Obi-Wan were back to back. "You think we should go back into the base that's gonna fall into the  _lava_?" he shouted incredulously over the noise of the battle. "What kind of crazy plan is that?"

"It's not as though we'll be safer out here!" In his peripheral vision, Anakin could see Obi-Wan gesturing with his lightsaber at the clones who were beginning to surround them. "Our best bet is to get off this planet as soon as possible. We won't need to linger inside."

"Fine," Anakin said, and they retreated once more into the relative shelter of the entrance to the base. Even as they did, a squad of clones rounded the corner ahead of them—the ones they'd left behind in the control room, Anakin guessed.

And was it his imagination, or was the floor under his feet already beginning to feel unstable?

There was no time for caution. Following Obi-Wan at a sprint, he helped dispatch the new arrivals. Cutting down clones instead of drones was beginning to come more naturally to him; more difficult, sure, but ultimately the same motions. They rounded the corner at a run, or at least as much of a run as they could manage while still deflecting the constant stream of blaster bolts emanating from the clones behind.

The route to the other exit took them through the control room again. They had just drawn level with the door—or what used to be the door, it was clear the clones had gone for the 'explosives' method of opening it, rather than using the small hole that Obi-Wan had cut or taking the time to shut off the emergency closing mechanism—when Anakin found himself sliding towards one of the walls.

Definitely not his imagination, this time. The base itself was beginning to tip.

"I told you this was a bad plan!" he screamed at Obi-Wan, his voice coming out slightly higher pitched than usual. Struggling to regain his balance as the structure tipped and swayed beneath him, he braced an arm against the wall and continued forward.

"It'll be fine!" Obi-Wan, who had been thrown to the ground by the sudden movement, nevertheless retained an unperturbed expression as Anakin helped him to his feet. "Stop complaining and start  _moving_."

Anakin rolled his eyes, but obeyed. As the base swayed in the other direction, he made his way back into the control room a few feet behind Obi-Wan, facing backwards all the while so he could deflect blaster bolts from the clones pursuing them. They were a good fifteen meters past the control room when he saw Poggle the Lesser stand up from where he'd been crouched by one of the control panels, apparently having realized that staying inside the base was about to become a more dangerous prospect than the potential of getting caught in the middle of a firefight.

Well. Served him right—the Geonosian was the one who'd brought the danger to Mustafar in the first place, after all. Anger rose in Anakin, as fiery as the planet's surface, and he batted a blaster bolt in the creature's direction. Poggle crumpled to the floor.

He looked up to see Obi-Wan had turned and was staring at him, looking from Anakin to where Poggle lay motionless and back again. Anakin opened his mouth to protest, to explain—

And was cut off as the floor dipped and tilted ominously under his feet. He stumbled forward, and a nagging feeling in the Force told him they were running out of time. Making eye contact with Obi-Wan, he could see the older man was having similar thoughts.

No time to get to their landing platform. "Here!" Anakin said, a thread in the Force pulling him towards the room's third door, not the one he and Obi-Wan had originally entered. Waving it open, he was relieved to see it led to the outside and darted through. Obi-Wan followed, but Anakin had come to a halt, frustrated. It was a balcony, not an exit.

And from here, he could actually  _see_  the approaching lava as the base sank and swayed towards it. "We have to go back!" he called to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Too late," he replied, and Anakin knew he was probably right. Obi-Wan glanced around, then fixed his gaze on some piping that extended out from this section of the base to the next. He looked back at Anakin, and their eyes met.

Anakin shrugged. It would be dangerous, but better there than here. Gesturing broadly with his hand, he inclined his head in Obi-Wan's direction. "After you."

The piping was attached about two meters below the balcony itself; Obi-Wan swung his legs over the railing and dropped down gracefully onto it. Energized from the combat, Anakin leapt over the rail with a somersault and landed in a crouch. The piping gave slightly under his weight. Standing up, he began to carefully place one foot in front of the other to follow Obi-Wan away from the doomed base, increasing his pace as he grew more sure of his footing.

The piping itself was just wide enough to stand on, and sturdier than he'd expected. Walking along it, Anakin was reminded of similar exercises he'd done at the Temple as a child in the first few years after he'd arrived.

Of course, none of the balancing bars he'd been forced to walk along  _then_  had come with the added difficulty of being attached to a building that was currently being dragged down into a river of lava. It didn't take much concentration in the Force for a Jedi to balance—if he'd needed to, Anakin could have done this backwards and with his eyes shut—but here, even the smallest misstep would be lethal. Jets of steam blew from pipe at irregular intervals, clouding his vision.

They were about halfway along the conduit when it crossed over a walkway just over five meters below; one quick jump, and they were on somewhat sturdier ground. The walkway arched from the main base over the cascades of lava to a coupling nexus of what he assumed had been the main collection plant in the days when the base had been used for mining.

Here, it was possible to run, and run they did. Anakin felt a surge of heat from behind him and turned: the structure had descended low enough that a burst of lava had jetted over the walkway, blanketing a section that he and Obi-Wan had passed over only moment before in molten rock.

He sprinted the last several meters to the coupling nexus. White-hot ash rained down on him from above; he and Obi-Wan pulled their backs to one of the columns in unison in an attempt to avoid the falling cinders.

And then that was the least of their problems as the base finally gave way, breaking loose from shore entirely and falling into the lava. The walkway they had just come along snapped, and the entire collection plant began to fall, tilting at an alarming rate as it did so. Side by side with Obi-Wan, Anakin raced back in the direction they had just come, up and away from the end of the nexus now descending towards the lava. Within seconds, running was no longer possible as the path lurched towards the vertical, and Anakin was forced to throw himself against the durasteel plating and scrabble for a handhold.

He gripped it tightly as the structure completed its journey to the perpendicular. The bottom of the nexus crashed into the lava, and for a moment, Anakin thought the whole thing would tip over backwards. A few feet to his left, Obi-Wan was hanging in a similar position, glancing down at the base of the plant slowly where it was sinking into the river of molten fire.

Anakin adjusted his hold on the metal, then began to climb upwards along it away from the lava roiling and hissing below. The durasteel itself was warm under his flesh hand. As he pulled himself up to the next ridge of metal, he noticed gunships lifting off from where the main base had been and hoped it meant that the clones had presumed them dead and given up their search. Flattening himself closer to the coupling nexus in the hopes it would make it harder for any clones to notice him if they  _did_  happen to look in their direction, he continued to scramble for altitude.

"Can I just say," he panted to Obi-Wan, "that this mission was a  _terrible_ idea?" The hot wind whipped through his hair and robes, blowing searing bits of ash onto his skin. "Once this thing sinks far enough, the other Jedi won't even have to worry about our funeral pyres."

"Not to worry," Obi-Wan replied, staring over Anakin's shoulder. "I doubt it's the  _sinking_  that's going to kill us."

Anakin twisted to see what he was looking at, and swore. The nexus was swiftly approaching a steep drop-off, a lavafall so high he could barely see the bottom even from this vantage point.

Looking at the shore, Anakin assessed the distance—it was too far to leap to safety, even for a Jedi. Even for  _him._

But Obi-Wan was moving, grabbing onto one of the cables dangling in the air around them and leaping off of the structure. Anakin followed suit, gripping his own cable and swinging out over the lava, squinting against the whirling cinders.

A motion caught his eye, and he whipped his head around to see Obi-Wan falling towards the lava. For a moment he was gripped by panic—he was on the other side of the nexus, couldn't possibly help with the Force in time—but then he noticed a cargo platform floating sedately down the river, and watched as Obi-Wan landed neatly on top of it.

He breathed out, and then realized his momentary distraction had cost him. Now swinging back towards the collection plant, there was no way for him to attempt a similar feat. And there was no time to make another pass: the collection plant had reached the edge of the lavafall, and was beginning to topple.

At the bottom of the cable's arc, he let go, landing back once more on the nexus. In a reversal of its earlier motion, the structure was now falling towards the horizontal again as it tipped over the brink. Anakin dashed along its uneven length, fully aware that it was moments away from tumbling into the fiery depths below with him along for the ride. Obi-Wan's alarm echoed through the Force.

He reached the end and leapt blindly forward just as the structure dropped from beneath his feet. No cargo platform for him, but a small repulsorlift droid humming just above the lava. Gratefully, he landed on it, and turned to watch the collection plant vanish into destruction.

A few seconds of guiding the droid upstream and he reached Obi-Wan. With a short jump, he landed on the older man's more stable platform, and together they rode against the current of roiling fire until they were a safe distance from the lavafall.

"Here," Obi-Wan said as they reached a stretch where the steep, craggy shoreline gave way to a slope of black sand. He jumped, and touched down high on the ashy slope.

Anakin too leapt, landing a few feet from the shore of the lava bank. He took a moment to draw the Force around him; this close to the lava, it was necessary to use it to keep the heat from igniting his clothes or burning his skin. Relieved to be on solid ground and—for the moment—away from the fighting, he glanced up at where Obi-Wan was standing ten or so feet away.

At the expression on Obi-Wan's face, his relief crumbled. "What?"

"And here I thought," Obi-Wan said, in a quiet voice that just barely carried over the sound of the wind, "that you  _meant_  it when you said you were trying to change. When you told me that you were willing to make an effort."

Anakin stared at him. "What are you—" He cut himself off, remembering the look Obi-Wan had given him earlier. "You mean what I did to Poggle? That wasn't—that wasn't  _wrong_ , I just—"

"You didn't have to kill him, Anakin!"

"And he didn't have to betray us!" The fury that had been rising within Anakin ever since they had landed on Mustafar intensified, and he was suddenly unable to ignore the heat of the lava behind him and the wind rushing by his ears. "He didn't have to try to get us killed by calling the clones! What I did to him was  _justice_!"

"He was unarmed, and he likely would have died anyway." Obi-Wan stared down at him, hands placed disapprovingly on his hips. "That wasn't justice; it was  _murder_."

"Maybe they're the same thing." Anakin clenched his hands into fists. "Does it matter right now?"

"Anger is of the dark side," Obi-Wan said coldly. "Hate is of the dark side. Revenge is the path to the dark side, and the dark side is never just."

Hot tendrils of anger roiled and writhed beneath his skin until the currents of the Force and his own tangled shame and rage blurred into a single, scarlet haze blanketing his vision. "Will you just—will you  _shut up_  about the dark side?" As if he needed any more reminders of the darkness lurking beneath his chest, present in the very core of his being if Plagueis's notes were anything to go by.

Obi-Wan stared at him in disbelief. "Will I 'shut up about the dark side?' Anakin, listen to yourself. I'll stop talking about it when you stop letting it control you!"

Fury and resentment burst through him like a supernova, " _Nothing_ controls me, and I'm tired of your lectures!" Anakin didn't remember pulling his lightsaber from his belt, or igniting it, but it was lit in his hand and humming in tune with his anger. "Why do you  _always_  think the worst of me? Why can't you ever just take my side?"

Anakin was struck by the odd sensation that he was standing outside his body, watching himself shake with anger. He brandished his blade, pointing the tip at the man standing ten feet above him.

Obi-Wan appeared unperturbed by his aggression. Folding his arms across his chest, the older man eyed him sadly. "If you are going to attack me," he said, "I hope I have taught you better than to do it from such a strategically disadvantaged position. I have the high ground, Anakin."

The words penetrated the red haze that had descended on his mind.  _If you are going to attack me_. No. He wasn't going to attack Obi-Wan. Was he? He'd never.

But there was the weapon in his hand. Anakin looked at it, disoriented, as if he were seeing it for the first time. "I—" he stammered. "I don't—" The anger was flowing out of him; what remained was directed only at himself. Helplessly, he looked up at Obi-Wan, who hadn't moved. The other Jedi just stood there, watching him, and Anakin crumbled under his gaze. He deactivated the lightsaber and it tumbled from his fingers to the ashy ground.

Anakin himself twisted and fell to his knees just feet from the edge of the lava bank, facing the river of fire rather than the man he'd just let down once more. Utterly drained, it was all he could do to whisper out, "I'm sorry," not even sure if Obi-Wan could hear him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that." The heat from the lava licked at his face and neck. At some point, he realized, he'd stopped using the Force to keep the scorching air and ash off of him, and under his robes, he was beginning to swelter. Every breath he took seemed to sear his lungs.

Anakin didn't care. Bowing his head, he could feel the heat licking at his face and singeing his hair, and wondered if he would burn. He shut his eyes.

But then the air around him cooled to a bearable warmth, and he opened them again. Obi-Wan was crouching next to him, wrapping the Force around the two of them like a blanket. When Anakin looked up, the older man placed a hand on his shoulder. "Talk to me, Anakin. Tell me what's going on in your head."

Anakin stared at the lava. "You don't want to hear it."

"I know you've been dealing with a lot of negative emotions since this all began," Obi-Wan said. "I  _know_  you've been struggling—you haven't been acting like yourself—but Padmé and I, we just want to help –"

"That's not true," interrupted Anakin. Obi-Wan looked at him. "Saying I 'haven't been acting like myself.' I've been myself, I feel more like myself than ever. Like I'm not hiding anymore."

Obi-Wan ran a hand over his face. "I…all right, well—"

"I'm  _broken_ , okay?" The words flowed from his mouth faster than he could stop them. "I've always had darkness, Master, I've  _always_  been angry and afraid and selfish, you just never noticed; I've alwaysbeen capable of hurting people and failing them and pushing them away. I tried to act like a good Jedi, for you, and when Padmé was around I could ignore everything and pretend I was okay, but I  _wasn't_ —"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, and he had to look away before the expression on the older man's face brought him to tears. "Anakin—"

"Did you ever consider," Anakin cut him off, "that I might not be worth saving?"

"No," said Obi-Wan quietly. "Never." He paused, raising one hand to cup Anakin's chin and turn his head until they were facing again. "And I never will."

It was too much; Anakin broke into tears. Obi-Wan made a soft sound and reached out, pulling him into his arms. Unable to stop the sobs from escaping him, Anakin wrapped his arms tightly around the older man and buried his face in Obi-Wan's shoulder. It took over a minute, clinging like that, with Obi-Wan's hand rubbing soothing circles into his back, for him to regain enough control to speak.

"Everybody keeps acting like they expect me to just, to just  _get it together_ ," he choked out. "Like now that Palpatine's gone and Padmé's probably gonna be okay, I should be fine, I should be stable, right? But I—I was never fine, Obi-Wan. Not really. Not even when I was little. I don't—I don't know what it  _means_  to be okay. I'm not sure that it's possible, for me."

"Oh, Anakin." Obi-Wan shifted, pulling him closer, running his fingers through Anakin's hair and then resting his hand at the nape of his neck. "What's brought this on?"

Shakily, Anakin laughed. He pressed his face into the rough fabric of Obi-Wan's robes, wishing he could stay ensconced in the older man's arms, shielded from the outside world forever. Or the outside world shielded from him, which might be equally useful. "That should be obvious, even for you, Master."

"I know there's more than just what happened in Palpatine's office," Obi-Wan said gently. "You just told me so yourself." He paused. "What are you really afraid of?"

A thousand possible answers whirled through Anakin's mind, all of them true, none of them anything he really wanted to voice.

But the man holding him, of all people, deserved his honesty. Anakin stayed quiet for several seconds, matching his breathing to Obi-Wan's, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. He'd never been good at articulating himself, not like Obi-Wan or Padmé.

Finally, he pulled back, wiping his face with his sleeve in an attempt to compose himself. "Remember when we were talking?" he asked. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him, and he clarified: "That night. Right after we got back from Palpatine's office, before the clones attacked? I said joining Palpatine seemed like a good idea at the time."

"I remember," Obi-Wan said slowly.

"And I know it wasn't," Anakin continued. "It was a terrible idea, and it seems—it seems so  _dumb_ , now, because of course going to the dark side couldn't have led to anything good. But it really did seem like a good idea at the time, you know?"

Obi-Wan's mouth quirked to the side. "Not really." He sobered. "I'm not sure what you're trying to say."

Anakin closed his eyes, frustrated. "If you'd asked me two weeks ago if I'd ever think about joining the Sith," he said, "I'd've thought you were space-crazy. But then something changed, and I—I really would have gone with Palpatine. So does it really mean anything that I don't want to go to the dark side now? What if things change again, what if I…snap?"

Obi-Wan looked at him. "You're concerned you might still fall to the dark side?" he asked carefully.

Anakin tucked his hands into the opposite sleeves, hugging himself and rocking back on his heels. "How could I  _not?_ " he asked. "I was friends with Palpatine for so many years, I trusted him, who  _knows_  how much stuff he told me I internalized? And if I am dangerous, if I do go bad again—"

"You won't," Obi-Wan interrupted.

Shaking his head, Anakin kept going. "I don't know what I'm  _capable_  of, not if I could have decided that joining the Sith was a good idea. I could hurt Padmé, or you, or, or—there's a reason the Council doesn't want me teaching the younger Temple kids alone any more, what if I corrupt my own kids, just by raising them? I could—"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan cut him off, leaning forward and gripping his upper arms. "Anakin, stop."

Anakin obeyed, looking up at his friend. Realizing he was close to hyperventilating again, he tried to get his breathing under control. Tears pricked at his eyes.

"You are not going to hurt anybody," Obi-Wan told him firmly. "You are not going to fall unless you choose to. You are only as dangerous as you decide to be, and I  _know_  you are capable of doing the right thing."

"You know I'm capable of doing the wrong thing, too," Anakin pointed out. "I killed the Tuskens, I likedwhat I heard in that Sith holocron, I listened to Palpatine  _because_  the things he told me were what I wanted to hear. I don't…I don't  _want_  to hurt anyone, right now, or go dark, but I don't know what's going to happen in the future. I don't know what I might start thinking is a good idea six months from now, or five years."

At that, Obi-Wan gave a small smile. "Nobody knows what the future holds," he said. "Not even Yoda can say for certain what will come to pass. You're hardly alone in that, my young friend."

"That's not the  _point_ —"

"The point is," Obi-Wan interrupted, "that no matter what happens, it'll be up to you to decide how to respond. You've chosen the right path once; now choose and choose again, Anakin, even if it's hard. Even if it's painful."

Anakin nodded jerkily. In some ways, Obi-Wan's faith in him was as reassuring as the words themselves, and he could feel the heavy clouds that had overtaken his mind beginning to lighten.

Obi-Wan's voice dropped. "You have free will," he continued softly. "I know you need help, and I—I don't always know exactly how to give it, but all you need to do is ask. How many times have I told you that your focus determines your reality?"

"A lot." Anakin looked up at him, offering a small smirk. "Almost as many times as you've told me my lightsaber is my life, or that—"

"The  _point_  is," Obi-Wan repeated quickly, "that you're more likely to fall to the dark side if you keep obsessing over how it might happen. If you believe you're dangerous, it'll become a self-fulfilling prophecy." He paused, then added: "I don't believe that's going to happen, but you need make a commitment."

Anakin worried his lower lip between his teeth. After a moment, hesitant, he asked, "What if I don't have a choice, though? What if going to the dark side is just part of my destiny? What if it's…what I was made for?" He'd not planned on having this conversation so soon, but if he didn't bring it up now, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to.

Obi-Wan stared at him. "What on Coruscant would make you think that?"

Anakin's gaze dropped to the ashy ground, and his fingers curled and uncurled repetitively against his robes. Drawing a deep breath, he admitted, "I saw something in the evidence room, when you and the others were telling Padmé about Damask. Something I don't think I was supposed to. I don't—I don't know if the Council has seen it yet, but…"

He looked up, and trailed off at the expression on Obi-Wan's face. "You know what I'm talking about," Anakin realized aloud. "The Council didsee it." He ducked his head back down, staring at the spot where the lava met the shore. "You know—you  _know—_ he created me, and—why didn't the Council say anything, why haven't they done anything, aren't they going to expel me?"

Obi-Wan was staring at him when he finally brought his head up again. "I...yes, I think I know what you're talking about, but," he shook his head, "I think you may be missing some information."

Anakin didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Missing some information? I'm a creation of a Sith Lord. Of the  _dark side_. Obi-Wan, I don't think I want any more information!"

"Is that what this was all about?" Obi-Wan asked. He rubbed his beard, reaching out with one hand to Anakin's shoulder and pulling him back until they were facing again. "Why didn't you tell me what you'd seen?"

"I—I was going to," Anakin said. "It just never seemed like a good time. How could I bring that up?" Even though he'd planned to tell Obi-Wan, he wasn't sure he would have ever found the courage to actually do it. Easier to pretend that it had never happened.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Never mind. Anakin, the Council did see the papers you're referring to." He moved his hand from Anakin's shoulder up to his face, pressing his palm against Anakin's cheek. "But it's  _not_  what you thought, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it earlier. The Council decided it would be better to wait and see if more solid evidence came up one way or the other."

Anakin let out a shaky breath. "What  _other_  way to interpret it is there?" Despite his skepticism, he was beginning to feel calmer—no matter what the truth of the matter turned out to be, it was clear now that Obi-Wan wasn't going to hate him for it.

"There were other papers," replied Obi-Wan, dropping his hand to his side. "Some of the last ones from before Plagueis's death. Palpatine had told him about you, and he theorized the Force created you as part of a backlash he'd felt  _against_  his experiments. As a way to tip the Force back into balance after he'd pushed it towards the dark." Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair. "Palpatine's own notes on the matter indicated he was less certain which side of the Force was responsible."

Anakin sat up straight. "What about you?" he asked. "What do you think? And the Council?"

"The Council isn't sure," Obi-Wan told him. "As I said, we haven't found any more information that suggests either hypothesis is more likely." He hesitated, then added: "There are other papers on an unrelated subject that they may decide to share with you at some point, but I think it's better if we wait for more information about those as well."

"But what about  _you_ ," Anakin pressed, impatient. He was curious about what Obi-Wan was being vague about, but at the moment, it didn't seem important. "Which side do you think it was?"

Obi-Wan paused. He drew back slightly, shifting his position on the ashy ground. "I…I don't think it matters," he said eventually.

"Don't think it  _matters_?"

"No." Obi-Wan's voice grew more firm. "I don't. You have the power to make your own decisions. You've shown you have the strength to reject the dark side once, and I don't see why that should change."

Anakin nodded slowly, sitting back on his heels. "That makes sense, I guess." He picked up some of the black sand in his flesh hand, staring at it as he let it run through his fingers.

"You seem almost disappointed," Obi-Wan said.

"I'm not!" Anakin clenched his hand into a fist, letting the last of sand fall as he looked back up. "It's just…I always kinda hated the prophecy, you know?" He remembered breaking down and telling Obi-Wan so some years ago. "The idea that I  _had_  to do something, like I had no choice, and everyone was watching me, waiting to see if I'd screw up or manage to pull it off. But now that it's over, now that I've actually done it…" He trailed off, struggling to find the words to explain in a way that Obi-Wan would understand.

"You feel unhappy?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I feel lost." The admission tore out of Anakin's mouth, more honest than he'd planned on being, and he flushed and glanced to the side. "It's like—most people get to choose what they want to do with their lives, and maybe the Force guides them, but it's not the same. I was born to  _do_  something; I was put in the galaxy for a really specific reason." He met Obi-Wan's gaze. "If the whole point of my existence was to bring balance to the Force, then what's the point of me now?"

From the look on the older man's face, his explanation hadn't helped. "You don't—you don't  _need_  a reason to exist, Anakin." The concern in Obi-Wan's voice made Anakin almost wish he hadn't said anything. "Even if you don't want to be a Jedi anymore, even if you never do anything that major again, it doesn't mean you're worthless _._ Raise your children, be with Padmé."

Anakin couldn't think of a good way to respond. Instead he asked, "Do you think I  _should_  leave the Order?"

Obi-Wan appeared taken aback by the question. "I don't want to pressure you to stay," he said. "If you think you'll be happier just being with your family, then I won't get in your way."

It was easy enough for Anakin to read between the lines. "But you want me to stay?"

A look of discomfort flitted briefly across Obi-Wan's face. "You'll always have a place with the Jedi," he said carefully, "and Force knows there are few enough of us left nowadays. We could use you against the clones, and there are ways you'll be able to help people even once this crisis is over, if you want to." He looked at Anakin intently. "But  _only_  if you want to. I…I realize that the strictness of the Order's rules was part of what pushed you this far, and I'm sorry for that."

"Don't be," Anakin said quickly. "I should have told you that I was having so much trouble, and anyway, you were the one that made it bearable. If I'd told you how bad my difficulties with the Code were earlier, then maybe—"

He never got to finish his sentence. A roar from overhead and the sound of an ominously familiar voice shouting "There!" had Anakin leaping to his feet. Beside him, Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber as a LAAT/i flew over the crest of a nearby ridge, carrying a squad of armored clones just visible through the smoke.

Anakin reached to his belt for his own lightsaber, then remembered he'd dropped it the sand and called it to him. Swearing under his breath, he shared a glance with Obi-Wan: one group of clones was manageable, but once reinforcements arrived, they'd have nowhere to run.

"Away from the lava!" Obi-Wan ordered, and Anakin nodded. Together they made their way up the slope; the last thing Anakin wanted was to be trapped with a river of molten rock at his back once the clones started advancing. One misstep would be all it took for death by blaster fire to be traded for a fate even more horrible, and Anakin had no plans to burn alive.

They had made it less than three quarters of the way to the top of the ridge when the sound of the LAAT/i's engine cut out, and the first clones appeared only a few seconds later.

It was as if the fight had never paused. With blasterfire flying thick and fast, Anakin found himself deflecting and backing away— _sideways_  along the slope, not down it—within only a few seconds.

"Got any more plans?" he called to Obi-Wan.

"I thought you hated my plans," Obi-Wan replied. "Anyways, it's your turn." Despite his light tone, Anakin could feel the other man's aggravation at the situation bleeding into the Force.

"Kill these guys and take their transport before the rest show up?" Anakin suggested. He swept his lightsaber in a smooth arc to deflect a volley of blaster bolts aimed at his torso and head—and then nearly missed Obi-Wan's affirmative reply when he realized that the clone who'd fired one of them was none other than Rex.

This time, he recovered faster from the surprise. When Obi-Wan surged forward towards the remaining clones, Anakin ran beside him, using the Force to keep from slipping on the slope of ash and sand. The clones didn't retreat like sane beings might have; continuing to take shot after shot as the pair closed in.

The first clone to meet him was Rex, and Anakin didn't kill him. A tug in the Force sent the clone's weapon flying out of his hand and into the lava. Furious, even though he couldn't quite bring himself to swing the fatal blow, Anakin punched his treacherous former captain hard in the helmet with his mechanical hand; there was a crunch, and he wasn't entirely sure which of them it had come from. A Force-enhanced shove sent the man flying a good ten meters away—he landed hard, and didn't move.

Anakin spun and decapitated his next target. Once again the clones had surrounded them, four or five taking more dangerous positions down towards the riverbank so that the two Jedi were deflecting blaster bolts from all sides. He drew towards Obi-Wan until they were back-to-back again, covering each other's openings in a well-practiced dance of slashes, strikes, and swings. Their lightsabers flashed electric blue as they wove high-velocity defensive patterns against the blasterfire raining down on them, and Anakin could sense that about half of the not-quite-identical Force-signatures had winked out.

Below him, the clones on the black sandy shoreline were coordinating their fire, creating a thick storm of blaster bolts that was forcing Anakin to give more and more of his attention towards that particular direction. He shoved them with the Force, hard.

It became suddenly more difficult to pretend he was only fighting droids as screams came from the burning men—even plastoid-alloy armor couldn't protect against molten lava. Anakin winced, but continued with the task at hand.

Within a few minutes, it was over. Clones littered the black landscape. Dead, all but one. As Obi-Wan moved towards the more solid ground where the LAAT/i had landed, Anakin knelt down over the unconscious Rex. Would it be better to kill him? There were so many theories for why the clones had done what they did—if it was by choice, then he deserved it; if not, then the Rex Anakin had known would almost certainly prefer to die.

"Bring him." Obi-Wan had evidently noticed that he hadn't followed, and come over to see what he was looking at. "We're going to have to send a Jedi to Kamino to ask about the clones' behavior as soon as we can spare one, but clearly they can't be trusted. It would be better to have the chance to make our  _own_  observations first."

Anakin nodded. He stood up, reaching his arms out and lifting Rex with the Force.

But then he heard the roar of engines, and looked up to see more clone gunships— _six_  this time, and he could see more coming in the distance—screaming in their direction. Reinforcements.

There would be no winning this fight, not on the ground.

"Run!" Obi-Wan called, and Anakin let Rex drop. He sprinted for the cover of the now-empty transport, though he knew that even if they did manage to lose the new attackers, it would be only delaying the inevitable if they couldn't get off planet. Diving inside with Obi-Wan close on his heels, he made a beeline to the pilot's seat and dropped into it.

"Ready?" he yelled to Obi-Wan, starting the engine with none of the usual pre-flight checks.

"No, wait!"

Anakin twisted in his seat to see what could  _possibly_  have provoked the negative response with enemies closing in on them from all sides. Obi-Wan was looking out of the transport into the sky beyond, and Anakin followed his gaze.

The new clone gunships hadn't landed. They weren't even firing in the direction of the pair of stranded Jedi.

Instead they were fighting new arrivals: two of them, in Jedi starfighters. Anakin grinned—for the first time that day, it seemed the Force was actually on their side. From behind the two starfighters emerged a third ship, which he recognized as Organa's.

 _Finally_.

Anakin scrambled out of the pilot's seat and back towards the side door. Laser blasts were strafing towards them again from the clones as Organa approached, but even as Anakin watched he saw one clone gunship knocked out of the sky by the fire of one of the Jedi starfighters.

The ramp of Organa's ship descended as it approached the ground. Anakin could feel himself vibrating with anticipation; beside him, Obi-Wan was equally tense. The moment Organa's ship touched the ground, about ten meters away from the haven of the LAAT/i, Anakin broke into a run. Dodging laser blasts as he sprinted—a lightsaber would be useless against this sort of artillery fire—he paused only to grab the still-unconscious Rex and drag him unceremoniously up the ramp.

The ramp began to close the moment his feet touched it, and Obi-Wan too leapt onboard as the ship lifted off. Letting go of Rex, Anakin took a moment to catch his breath. Laserfire rocked the corvette—he was surprised its shields had held out even this long—and they quickly made their way to the cockpit.

Organa didn't look up as they entered, flying the ship up through the atmosphere. Anakin tapped him on the shoulder, and the Senator ceded the pilot's seat without comment as Obi-Wan strapped in as co-pilot. "Who are our friends?"

"Not sure," said Organa. "Jedi. The clones let me take off, but there were too many of them for me to get back to the base. I thought I'd pretend to leave and see if I could sneak in from another direction, but these guys met me above the atmosphere."

Obi-Wan nodded, then asked, "Do you have a medkit on board?"

"I—yes," Organa replied. "Are you hurt?"

Obi-Wan didn't respond immediately, firing the turbolasers at one of the closest gunships as Anakin angled their own ship to give him a clear shot. "There's a prisoner in the cargo hold. He's unconscious at the moment, but it'd be better if you could sedate him as well."

"Hells," muttered Organa. "Nothing is ever simple, is it?" Standing up, he left the cockpit.

Anakin gritted his teeth as he juked and spun—the craft wasn't built for serious combat, and he could see that the shields were getting low. As they left the surface behind, he could see the two starfighters pulling up along either side as the clone gunships attacked from behind. Beside him, Obi-Wan fired the turbolasers, and three of the enemy ships exploded into smoke in quick succession.

And then they were out of the atmosphere. Anakin relaxed slightly in his chair, breathing a sigh of relief. Though the gunships could be deployed from space, there was no way for them to reach orbit altitude without a carrier, and he planned to be out of the system  _well_  before the clone's own starfighters could give chase. The greatest danger would be the battlecruiser orbiting the planet just a small fraction of a rotation away—it didn't appear to have noticed them yet, but if it did…

Anakin veered away from the planet, pushing the limit of the corvette's sublight engines. The comm beeped. "Jedi frequency," Obi-Wan said, and reached forward to activate it.

A voice came crackling through.  _"Heard someone needed a rescue."_

"Quinlan?" Obi-Wan asked, surprise evident in his voice. Anakin raised an eyebrow, though he didn't look up from his piloting—he remembered hearing that Master Vos had survived Order 66, but hadn't seen him around the Temple since. "What are you doing here?" Obi-Wan continued.

" _Got a message from the Council. Aayla and I've been helping stranded Jedi escape their clones all across the Rim; they said you'd gone dark and we were closest. Imagine my surprise when I heard you two had managed to get yourselves in trouble."_

"Oh, I'm sure we could have managed to handle the situation," said Obi-Wan lightly, and Anakin smirked as he entered the coordinates for Coruscant into the navicomputer.

" _Of course you could have."_ Vos sounded amused. _"It looked you had the situation completely under control."_

"Speaking of under control…" Anakin jerked his head at one of the displays. "We've got company." Clearly they hadn't managed to go unnoticed: starfighters were pouring out from the battlecruiser he'd noticed before.

"It's not worth fighting them," Obi-Wan said. "Quin, tell Aayla not to engage. Time to get out of here. Anakin—"

"On it," Anakin said, dodging and rolling laser fire as the clones' fighters swarmed from behind. They were nearing the edge of the planet's gravity well—lighter and faster, the two Jedi starfighters pulled ahead of them, and disappeared.

After only a few seconds, Anakin too was able to make the jump to hyperspace. Allowing his hands to drop from the controls, he slumped back in his seat as the field of stars in front of him blurred into familiar lines.

Gladly, he left the planet of Mustafar behind.


	24. Return

Afternoon turned into evening on Coruscant. Padmé waited in the main hangar bay of the Jedi Temple, arms folded across her chest, only the self-control she'd gained after a lifetime as a queen and a senator preventing her from tapping her foot impatiently. The Jedi on either side of her, Masters Yoda and Windu and a few others from the Council, were themselves composed and impassive.

They'd brought a team of healers, just in case. Easy for the Jedi to be expressionless: it wasn't  _their_  husband and two of their dearest friends currently inbound from a mission that had gone somehow horribly, dreadfully wrong. The transmission from the Jedi the Council had sent as backup—Padmé hadn't recognized the name, Vos or Vas or something along those lines—had been short and cryptic, stating only that he'd found them and they were about to make the jump to hyperspace. No word on what had gone wrong, if anyone had been injured.

The lack of elaboration could probably be explained by the laserfire in the background of the message, and the intermittent swearing from the Jedi in question that had gone along with it.

That had been a few hours ago. Just a few minutes before, they'd received another message, this one a notice that the group had made it into the system and were inbound heading for the Temple. A confirmation, at least, that they'd survived whatever fight they'd landed themselves in and managed to make it home. Padmé hadn't bothered to hide her relief, and she could have sworn that even Mace Windu had looked less grim than usual as he'd invited her along with the rest of the Council members involved in coordinating the rescue down to the landing pad.

The roar of engines interrupted the silence, and Padmé looked up to see three ships entering the hangar bay. One she recognized as Bail's—it flew in, making a deft turn into the space between two Jedi ships that were sitting on the ground, then settled to the floor. Following it into the bay were a pair of Jedi starfighters.

Padmé didn't wait to watch the two fighters land. Hurrying over to the larger ship, she was only about twenty feet away when the ramp descended. Bail emerged and walked down it, followed shortly after by Obi-Wan.

And behind him, Anakin. No need, this time, to wait in the shadows, to delay their reunion until no one else was watching. She caught his eye and he flew forward, down the ramp and into her arms. Their lips met, briefly, and then she pulled back to look at him.

In some ways, he looked worse for the wear. His robes were singed and dirty, his face streaked with what looked like ash. More worrisome still, there were clean tracks down the dirt on his face that looked like they might have been from tears. And yet…

And yet his warm smile was more genuine than she'd seen it in days. And even if his eyes weren't as bright and shining as they had been before three years of war, when she'd first married him, at least his face no longer wore the haunted expression of exhaustion and anxiety that had persisted after Palpatine's death and her clearance by the healers. "I missed you," he said, running a hand down from her cheek to rest gently on the curve of her stomach, and the open emotion in his voice made a sharp contrast to the inexplicable withdrawn and tense demeanor that had been intensifying ever since the Jedi had first come to her about Damask.

Something had changed, in the time he'd been away. Something had changed for the better.

"You were gone for less than a day," she pointed out, unable to keep a note of teasing from entering her voice.

"I miss you every moment we're apart," he told her, which was veering slightly closer to that sweet-yet-borderline-unhealthy territory she'd recently started paying more attention to than she was entirely comfortable with.

Not that she hadn't missed him, too. Especially once she'd realized he'd managed to get into trouble. She knew he could handle himself, of course, and the fact that Obi-Wan was with him had allayed the worst of her fears. Not to mention that she'd been the one to suggest he go on the mission in the first place.

But it was good to have him home.

Before she could respond, she heard footsteps from behind and turned to see the other Jedi—including two new faces, a dark-skinned human-looking man with a yellow stripe across his face and a blue-skinned Twi'lek woman—coming up to them as Obi-Wan and Bail finished their unhurried descents down the ramp and onto the hangar bay floor. Anakin let go of her, moving back a few steps to be level with Obi-Wan and drawing close to the older man's side.

"Master Kenobi," said Windu. "Knight Skywalker, Senator Organa. I'm glad to see you unharmed. What happened? I take it the negotiations didn't go as planned."

"You could say that," Obi-Wan replied dryly. "Poggle the Lesser betrayed us and the rest of the Separatist Council. We were ambushed by clones a few hours in."

Padmé's eyes widened. Over to her left, she saw Windu and Yoda exchanging a glance.

"What  _happened?_ " Windu repeated.

"The negotiations were going…slowly," Obi-Wan explained; from her own personal experience, Padmé suspected he was being overly kind. "Anakin tried to send a comm message to Coruscant," he nodded in Padmé's direction "but he couldn't get through. Once we realized we were being jammed, we began trying to root out the source—"

"—but the gunships were already landing by the time we figured out it was Poggle," Anakin finished. "It was too late to stop him, so we got the rest of the Seps to leave. Senator Organa was getting the ship, only we had to get off the base without the clones shooting us 'cause it was starting to collapse into the lava."

Padmé wondered if it was, maybe, a good thing that she didn't hear  _this_  many details about most of Anakin's missions. Not that she hadn't faced her own fair share of danger in the past, but to hear Anakin talk about it so casually…

"Anyway, we got out," Anakin continued. "Poggle, um." He paused, shifting his weight a little from side to side, fingers playing with the edges of his sleeves. He shot a look at Obi-Wan.

"Poggle didn't make it out of the base before it collapsed," Obi-Wan said after a moment's hesitation, and Anakin looked away quickly and stared at the floor. Padmé made a mental note to ask one or the other of them what  _that_  was all about. "Anakin and I managed to reach solid ground without, ah, too much trouble, and we…waited for Senator Organa." Once again, he and Anakin shared an unreadable look, and Anakin shifted closer towards him. "The clones found us again, but with Quin and Aayla's assistance we were able to get away. Thanks for that, by the way."

"Thank Senator Amidala," Windu said, jerking his head in her direction. "She was the one who noticed we couldn't get through to you."

Obi-Wan nodded at her, and Anakin shot her a grin.

"And we got a prisoner," Anakin added, though the smile had dropped off his face. "One of the clones. Rex. He's sedated, should be out of it for the next few hours." He gestured in the general direction of the ship.

Windu raised an eyebrow. "Well done," he said, and waved forward one of the healers—an older woman with a slightly severe expression. "Make sure he's not going to wake up any time soon and take him to a containment cell," he told her. The woman nodded and hurried up the ramp, followed closely by the rest of the healers, who were carrying a stretcher. "You four." Windu pointed at Anakin, Obi-Wan, and the two Jedi who'd arrived with them. "If none of you are injured," he paused, and waited until all four shook their heads to continue, "I think it would be best if you came immediately to give a full report in front of the rest of the Council."

"And I should get back to the Senate if you have no further need of me," Bail added. "The Security Committee needs to hear what happened, and the rest of the Senate. Hells, we need to see if we can get back into contact with Gunray and the rest, find out if they're still open to a cease-fire."

Yoda inclined his head. "Go, you should," he said.

Bail started for the ramp of his ship, then paused and looked over his shoulder. "Padmé?"

Padmé hesitated. Part of her wanted to stay behind, reunite properly with Anakin, find out what had  _really_ happened—

But Bail was right. If the negotiations had gone as disastrously as it sounded, the Senate would need to respond as soon as possible. To prepare for the possibility of a renewed threat from the Separatists, if they decided to blame the Jedi for bringing danger down on the meeting, not to mention the near-certainty of panic over the  _clones_  now that non-Jedi had gotten involved in their attacks for the first time since the day Palpatine had died.

Right now, she was needed there more than she was needed here.

She made eye-contact with Anakin and smiled apologetically. His face fell, and she paused in front of him as she made her way to follow Bail, catching one of his hands in her own and giving it a quick squeeze. "I'll see you later tonight," she said, keeping her voice quiet.

He nodded, bringing his hands up to cup her face. She leaned forward to give him a quick peck on the lips, and the downcast look in his eyes dissipated slightly. "Thanks for the save earlier," he murmured, the corners of his mouth quirking upward just a little.

"Try not to get into trouble while I'm gone, this time," she instructed him, trying to inject as much sternness into her voice as possible while keeping a straight face. "That goes for both of you."

Obi-Wan, who had turned to face the other direction—whether to give them a modicum of privacy, or if because Jedi just weren't comfortable with public displays of affection, she wasn't entirely sure—turned back slightly. "Of course, Senator," he said, his faux-offended expression only belied by the amusement in his voice.

"As you wish, milady," Anakin added, his voice low, a teasing light dancing in his eyes.

Padmé rolled her eyes as she let go of his hand, but didn't bother to hide her smile. If there was anyone who  _was_  capable of finding trouble in the middle of the Jedi Temple, it would have to be her husband.

Even so, she felt more assured than she had in a while that he wasn't about to pull another stunt like breaking into that restricted vault, or anything that had come after. He seemed…not  _calmer_ , exactly, but more centered. Farther away from the edge.

She was definitely going to have to ask him about whatever it was he and Obi-Wan had been skirting around during the debriefing, she decided as she hurried to catch up with Bail. She slowed momentarily as the team of healers passed her going the opposite direction on the ramp carrying a stretcher; between them, she got a glimpse of the distinctive clone armor and the brown-skinned face made all-too-familiar by the war, made unusual only by the dyed blond hair that framed it.

Rex. She'd met him once on Naboo while trying to stop the release of a deadly virus, but even if she hadn't she'd know who he was: Anakin's captain for most of the war. Though she remembered now Anakin mentioning he'd remained behind on whatever Outer Rim planet they'd been fighting for when Anakin and Obi-Wan had been recalled suddenly back to Coruscant to rescue the Chancellor. The plan had been for the rest of Anakin's forces to disengage as soon as possible, which was the only reason he'd brought it up to her, that evening after the clones' initial betrayal. He hadn't been certain if Rex and his other officers had been on Coruscant when Order 66 was issued, if the clones he knew personally had been involved in the attack on the Temple.

She wondered if it was a coincidence that  _this_  was the one clone that had been taken alive.

Probably not.

One more thing to ask Anakin about this evening, but for now, she followed Bail into the cockpit of his ship. Pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind, she prepared for the inevitable chaos they were about to cause in the Senate.

* * *

It wasn't the  _longest_  debriefing Anakin had ever been involved in, but for a mission that had taken less than a day, it was definitely up there. The Council had wanted every detail of their negotiations with the Separatists, every detail of their interactions with the clones.

And they'd given every detail but one. Obi-Wan had done most of the talking, and for once, Anakin was willing to let him. He'd wondered if Obi-Wan's obfuscation earlier had been due to Senator Organa's presence, and all the healers and other Jedi in the hangar bay that might have overheard. But even in front of just the Council, Obi-Wan had covered for him. Again.

"You didn't have to lie for me, you know," Anakin said quietly as they made their way down the corridor. "I mean, I—I would understand if you wanted to tell the Council the truth about what happened with Poggle."

"I did tell the truth," said Obi-Wan serenely, "from a certain point of view. Poggle  _didn't_  make it out of the base before it collapsed."

" _Obi-Wan."_

"I am a member of the Council. And we resolved the matter to my satisfaction." He glanced at Anakin. "For now. We'll talk more about it later; I know we were interrupted. Unless you  _wanted_  me to tell the rest of the Council?"

"No, of course not," Anakin said quickly, then lapsed into silence as they passed another group of Jedi heading the other direction. It was odd, the Temple being so full. Even with the losses from the war—a full third of the adult members of the Order killed in combat since Geonosis, and  _over_ a third of the remainder killed by clones during Order 66, at last count—there hadn't been this many Jedi in the Temple for over three years, back when he'd been just a Padawan. Aside from the stranded Jedi and the few like Quinlan Vos and Aayla Secura who had been sent to help them, every survivor had been recalled to Coruscant. Less than half of the number there'd been before the war, but that was still more people than had remained near to the end, when every Jedi old enough to wield a lightsaber had been sent off to fight.

The newly busy halls were just one inescapable reminder of how much had changed. Another was the Temple itself, hallways scorched and scarred by blaster bolts and the lightsabers of defending Jedi.

And then there were the echoes in the Force where Jedi had fallen. Invisible patches that reeked of death, or where the air was heavy enough with phantom pain that they were difficult to walk through. They would fade with time, mostly, but Anakin had taken to learning where they were so he could avoid them. It wasn't a night he wanted to be reminded of.

They emerged into another hallway, this one empty, but Anakin didn't resume the conversation. He followed Obi-Wan in silence through the corridors to the residential wing of the Temple, and then to the door of Obi-Wan's quarters. Then he stopped, shifting hesitantly on his feet as Obi-Wan palmed open the door.

Obi-Wan glanced back at him, jerking his head towards the inside of the room, and Anakin accepted the silent invitation gratefully. Going back to his quarters alone to sit and stew over the events of the day while Padmé was away didn't sound appealing in the slightest.

"Tea first," said Obi-Wan, leading him inside. "Then we'll talk."

Anakin swallowed, then nodded. He settled down on the couch, fingers playing with the hems of his sleeves while Obi-Wan went into the kitchen. Here in the warm, familiar quarters that he'd lived in for over a decade before being Knighted, he could almost relax for the first time since they'd landed on Mustafar—no need to be on the lookout for attack, lies, or betrayal.

But that didn't make it any easier to face the fact that he was going to need to finish explaining something he didn't really have an explanation for. Opening up to Obi-Wan on Mustafar had been the right thing, he knew, but without the mindless, gut-twisting desperation that had driven his confession, Anakin wasn't sure he could keep putting his emotions into coherent  _thoughts_ , let alone words.

By the time Obi-Wan returned carrying two steaming cups, Anakin still hadn't decided what to say. Accepting the hot beverage with a grateful nod, he leaned back into the couch as Obi-Wan settled down beside him. For a few minutes they drank in companionable silence, and then Obi-Wan set down his cup and turned to face Anakin more fully.

"All right," he said. "Let's talk." And then he lapsed back into silence, and Anakin remembered that Obi-Wan wasn't actually much better than he was about this whole  _talking about emotions_ thing outside of life-threating situations.

"About Poggle?" he asked, hesitant. "Or about…the stuff I said?" He wasn't sure which was preferable. Bad enough that Obi-Wan had witnessed him killing an unarmed enemy; even the thought of reliving it now, in front of him, was enough to cause his cheeks to heat in shame. But the things he'd admitted, afterward—he didn't  _regret_  telling Obi-Wan, and not just because the older man deserved to know the truth about him. Having the weight of so many secrets off his chest was enough to make him feel better than he had in days, maybe in years.

But he'd also laid himself bare and open and vulnerable, and even though he trusted Obi-Wan with everything, he wasn't sure he had the energy to do it twice in one day.

At least not without drinking something stronger than  _tea_  first.

"Either," Obi-Wan responded. When Anakin bit his lip, unsure, Obi-Wan continued, "When we were interrupted—we were talking about whether you wanted to stay a Jedi. You were about to say something about the…difficulties you've had with life in the Order."

Anakin nodded, relieved the conversation had turned to slightly safer territory than he'd been expecting. "I mean, you probably already know most of it," he said. "The whole 'no attachment'thing; that just isn't  _me._ "

"You don't say," said Obi-Wan drily, and Anakin let out a short huff of laughter.

After a moment, he sobered. "I did—I did  _try_ , Master. To act like I was supposed to, to pretend I was like other Jedi."

"I know you did." Obi-Wan's tone was gentle. He caught Anakin's eye, giving him a small smile. "But you've never been much good at pretending."

Anakin nodded. He looked away from Obi-Wan, gaze dropping to the floor. "It was hard," he admitted, forcing the honest words out of his mouth before he could overthink them. "Not just keeping the secret about Padmé, but all of it. Like I was always playing catch-up when I first came here, because everyone else already knew how to be a Jedi and I didn't, and at some point I just started to fake it and hoped it would become real." Covering the fact that the Code just didn't  _mean_ anything to him by pulling off one successful mission, impossible feat, or prodigious show of skill after another.

Obi-Wan looked away. "I'm sorry," he said, voice quiet.

Anakin shook his head. "It's not your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault." In hindsight, he wondered how strange it must have been for Obi-Wan to have to take care of someone not Temple-raised, if he'd seemed as odd to Obi-Wan as Obi-Wan and the other Jedi had initially seemed to him. "And I guess it doesn't matter so much anymore."

Because there was no more hiding, now. Not even if he wanted to. The Council had watched him break down in the Holocron Vault, had seen the recording of his desperate oath to Palpatine, knew of his marriage and devotion to Padmé. All the pretenses he'd built up over the past decade had come tumbling down, and trying to act like nothing had changed would be an exercise in futility.

"I suppose it doesn't," Obi-Wan said, sipping at his tea. "Do you think that'll make things easier if you decide to stay?"

"I don't know," Anakin said. Even with the Council trying to meet him halfway, giving him the concessions about his relationship with Padmé that he wouldn't have thought even worth dreaming of before this ordeal began, he doubted that trying to balance his lives with the Jedi and with his family would ever be anything but difficult. Most likely more difficult than before, in some ways; openly having even a Council-sanctioned marriage and family would set him farther apart from the other Jedi than ever before. "I don't—what if I take the Council up on their offer and it doesn't work out? Even with the compromises about Padmé."

"You can always decide to leave the Order later," Obi-Wan pointed out.

On some level, Anakin knew that was true. But to make a commitment to stay, with support from Obi-Wan and Padmé and all the exceptions from the Council he could possibly have expected under the circumstances, and then to leave anyway—

It would feel like defeat.

"I don't know," he repeated helplessly. "I don't know what I want, Obi-Wan."

"Then perhaps you should think about it." Obi-Wan stood up from the couch, setting down his cup. "Why don't you come meditate with me?"

Anakin considered the offer for a moment, rejection on the tip of his tongue. Meditation had never really appealed to him. When he'd first come to the Temple, it had been a constant frustration: he'd been placed in groups with children half his age, and watched them slip into meditation as easily as breathing while he'd been unable even to sit still long enough to  _fake_  meditating for the same period of time. Even as he'd gotten older and learned how to open himself up to the Force, it had never quite come naturally to him. Sparring or flying or fixing broken droids, keeping his hands and feet and mind occupied, those were the sorts of activities he usually turned to when he was feeling overwhelmed.

Opening his mind to the Force, on the other hand, just didn't bring the calm it was supposed to. Sometimes Anakin wondered if this was just one more way he was  _different_ , experiencing something other Jedi didn't. He couldn't imagine how the rest of them really found peace by doing what to him was the equivalent of looking into a supernova. It was different, though, to meditate with Obi-Wan, or even with Ahsoka back when that had been a possibility. To have another person to focus on. He didn't usually volunteer for it, but he'd stopped resisting the idea of joint pre-battle or post-mission meditation some years ago.

He nodded at Obi-Wan, and got up to follow him. Even if he didn't actually  _meditate,_ the chance to sit down and actually think about what he wanted now that the fears he'd been carrying since he saw Plagueis's journal were no longer weighing on his mind so acutely was one he knew he shouldn't pass up. Obi-Wan sat down on the mat, cross-legged. Anakin walked around him and settled to the floor, his back resting against Obi-Wan's.

He closed his eyes. To reach out with the Force—to sense for danger, or push away an oncoming battle droid, or draw on extra reserves on energy when he was exhausted—was instinctual. But right now he wasn't reaching  _for_  anything; he needed to let the Force guide  _him_  rather than the other way around, and that had always been more difficult. He allowed his senses to extend outward, opening himself up and throwing his connection to the Force wide.

It was like staring into the sun. It was always like that, though, and he'd long ago gotten used to it. He pushed past the instinctive recoil, extending his mind beyond the limits of his body, allowing the Force to flow into him. The last time he'd done this had been the night after he'd listened to Rivan's holocron, less than twelve hours before everything had gone to hell in Palpatine's office. Then, he'd been caught in a constricting web of darkness, the Force around him a whirlwind of hot, tempting power just within reach.

Today, the Force was different. Clearer. Lighter and less suffocating than it had been in a long time, maybe as long as he could remember. An aftereffect of Palpatine's death, Anakin suspected, the reversal of the dark-side clouding of the Force that had been going on for years.

But the clouds weren't entirely gone. Currents of the Force writhed beneath his skin, taunting him with fleeting images, memories— _Padmé as she'd looked in his nightmares, Palpatine standing over him as he knelt and submitted, Obi-Wan watching in disappointment as Anakin threatened him with a lightsaber on the shores of Mustafar._

Anakin's breath caught, and he fought the urge to break his trance. He could feel himself gasping, falling back into his body, retreating from the onslaught of memories. And then he felt a pulse of calmness that sure as space hadn't come from  _him,_ and a mild mental tug that carried a hint of admonishment; recognizing the source without hesitation, Anakin reached back along the bond that linked him to Obi-Wan and opened himself up to it. For all that Obi-Wan burned bright in the Force when he wanted to, right now the older man was projecting nothing more nor less than a simple sense of peace, of stability. Anakin took a deep breath and immersed himself in the feeling, anchoring his mind against the torrent of memories and emotions.

Focusing on Obi-Wan—on his presence in the Force and the solid feeling of his back aligned with Anakin's—Anakin forced himself to let the tumult wash over him. His breathing evened, and he allowed his emotions to settle.

And then, when the images were no longer flashing across the backs of his eyelids and the tightness in his chest dissipated, he opened himself up to the Force once again.

This time, it was like falling. For a brief moment, his consciousness expanded out past his body to the infinite galaxy beyond, and he could feel  _everything_ —

And then he was surrounded by darkness. It wasn't an oppressive darkness, or a frightening one, simply an utter absence of light that stretched out forever in all directions. Anakin closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, a light behind him caught the corner of his eye. It wasn't clear where the light was emanating from, but there was no doubt what it was intended to illuminate: a full-size mirror in a simple frame stood about ten meters from Anakin, washed in the soft golden glow.

Anakin walked over to it. This time, he wasn't surprised by the version of himself he saw in the reflection. His doppelgänger, again cloaked in black fabric and with eyes that burned yellow.

And this time, his double wasted no time talking before stepping through the glass.

For a moment they stood in front of each other silently, less than a meter apart. Then the other Anakin raised a hand, and Anakin had to force himself not to flinch. But though his double's face was twisting into a cruel smirk, he wasn't attacking. Instead he simply brought his hand in between them, level with their eyes, and snapped his fingers.

Anakin blinked against the sudden onslaught of heat, the sulfuric smell, and the fiery light that suddenly assaulted his senses. No longer was he standing in an infinite plane of darkness.

Instead, he was on Mustafar. His doppelgänger stood several meters away from him, the river of lava flowing behind him. In Anakin's fingers was his lightsaber, ignited. He flicked it off and, deciding he wasn't in the mood to play the Force's games, turned away from his double and the inferno.

He didn't even make it a single step. Lying at his feet was Obi-Wan Kenobi, a small, blackened hole seared through his chest.

Anakin flinched, dropping his lightsaber to the ground, then closed his eyes. "That isn't real," he said aloud. "I know this is a vision." And, unless he was somehow going to get cloned anytime soon, not even a prophetic one—just the nightmare he'd had after finding out about Plagueis, transferred to a different setting. "It didn't happen like that," he continued carefully, his eyes squeezed closed. "I know I didn't kill him."

"But you could have," said his own voice, louder and closer than he'd expected. Anakin's eyes blinked open to reveal his double standing over Obi-Wan's body. "I did, and I live inside of you. Why else would you have drawn your weapon?"

Anakin flashed back to that moment, to the all-consuming rage and the solid, tempting weight of the lightsaber hilt in his hand as he brandished it at the man standing above him. "I wouldn't have done it."

"Like you would never choose to turn to the dark side? Like you would never agree to betray the Jedi?" The double smiled with a kindness that didn't reach his eyes and placed a hand on Anakin's shoulder, his grip tight enough to be painful.

"I know better, now," said Anakin. "I'll never turn. If I did, I'd lose Obi-Wan and Padmé. I know that now." He moved closer to his doppelgänger, trying his hardest to ignore the body lying between them and staring his double in the eye. "And I  _won't_."

For a moment, his double looked slightly taken aback. But then he began to cackle, and Anakin flinched away, taking several steps back until he was out of arm's reach. "Is  _that_  what you call morality?" The other Anakin stepped forward, reaching out. "You won't embrace the dark side because you don't want them to be angry at you? Nothing practical, nothing ethical—just pure  _selfishness_."

"That's not what I meant," breathed Anakin, retreating until the river of lava behind his feet forced him to stop.

"Isn't it?" His counterpart sneered. "You're no better than I am." Anakin didn't see him move—one moment he was several feet away and the next his face was inches away from Anakin's. "You  _would_  have fallen. You still might. Deny it all you want, but I  _am_  a part of you."

Anakin stepped away again, sideways this time, along the lava bank. His vision-self's words were close enough to what he had been saying earlier that day, and he scrambled to remember Obi-Wan's counterarguments. "I didn't—Palpatine tricked me, he lied, otherwise I wouldn't have—"

"And when you killed the Tusken raiders? Their  _children_? Who tricked you then?" Anakin didn't say anything, had nothing to say. The doppelgänger made a noise of disgust, then shoved him hard, and he stumbled to the side and fell to the ground just inches from the lava. He caught himself on his hands and sat up, but before he could stand his doppelgänger was leaning over him, pressing a hand to his chest and keeping him where he was. "Nobody did, and you know it. It. Was. All. You. It's always been all you—your choice to kill, your choice to lie, your choice to  _betray._  Would Palpatine's lies have worked so well on any other Jedi?"

Anakin looked away. "No," he said, "but—Palpatine was my friend, that's why, it's not because I'm—" He wasn't certain enough of the truth in his words to finish.

"I said stop lying to yourself! If one of Obi-Wan's friends had asked him to join the Sith, would  _he_  have listened?" The double sat down beside him on the lava bank, leaning over to speak into Anakin's ear, his hand still fisted in the front of Anakin's tunic. "Here's the truth: the dark side is fun, and it's powerful, and you'll never stop wanting it. It's like a drug: you've tasted it, and now you won't be able to give it up. And even before you tasted it, you were the sort of person who put your selfish desires above the things you claimed to believe in."

Anakin couldn't help but remember the terrifying moment when he'd asked himself what he would do to keep Padmé safe and come up with  _anything, anything at all, no matter the price, let the galaxy burn as long as she lives._ He swallowed, throat dry in the parched Mustafar air, and looked at the ashy shore without saying anything. How could he deny it, when it was no more than what he'd been telling Obi-Wan earlier that day?

"You fear me, because you fear what you might still become," said his double quietly, letting go of Anakin's tunic and smoothing the folds where it had been bunched in his hands. "And you should. Because the dark side  _always_ wins. You can keep running from me, always second-guessing yourself, wondering if you can be trusted, wondering if you're just going to fail again and hurt the people you love even more." He cupped Anakin's chin, forcing his face up until their eyes met. "Or you can submit."

And for a moment, it sounded so  _easy._ But he could also remember Obi-Wan's words from earlier that day, through his mind. "Choose and choose again," Anakin said quietly, more to himself than to his doppelgänger, then pulled away from the other's grasp and rose to his feet. He raised his voice. "I don't choose to be you now. I won't choose to be you tomorrow. You keep saying we're the same person, that you live inside of me. But the opposite has to be true, too, right?"

Because his double was right. It  _was_ fear, as always, that kept bringing his mind back to the lure of the dark side. Fear that he'd be powerless without it, fear that Palpatine had corrupted him so absolutely that trying to reject it now was only delaying the inevitable, fear that he wasn't a good enough person to deserve Padmé and Obi-Wan, dark side or not.

And now that he could recognize it for what it was, Anakin could feel his doubts vanishing. Because even if the HoloNet reporters were wrong to call him the Hero with No Fear, even if he had never and probably would never would be able to vanquish the terror that gripped him when he thought about losing Obi-Wan, or Padmé, or the babies, he knew one thing for certain:

He didn't have to let it control him. And with everything and everything he loved at stake, he  _wouldn't_.

Years ago on Tatooine, his mother had once told him that real courage wasn't the absence of fear but the strength to do the right thing even when it was frightening. And okay, maybe the past few weeks had shown that he didn't always have that strength. Anakin wished he could believe that his decision in Palpatine's office had been borne out of a temporary fit of insanity, but he couldn't lie to himself, not anymore. He'd have agreed to anything if it had meant not losing Padmé.

But next time, he'd do better. And if he wasn't sure what  _was_  better, he could ask Obi-Wan or Padmé. "Maybe you should fear  _me_ ," he told the doppelgänger. "You're what I could become? Fine. Maybe that's true." He had little doubt that it was. "But if I don't become you, then you're  _nothing_. And I win."

He closed his eyes, though not before catching a glimpse of the snarl of fury that twisted his doppelgänger's face.  _You have no power over me,_ he thought, willing more than knowing it to be true, and felt the heat around him dissipate.

Anakin's eyes snapped open. He blinked, momentarily disoriented as he found himself back in Obi-Wan's quarters. His legs were stiff beneath him, and the sky he could see through the windows was darker than it had been when he'd first entered the apartment.

He turned his head. Obi-Wan was no longer sitting on the mat behind him, but was back on the couch, watching him. Now that he was moving, the older man stood up and walked over.

"How long was I in the trance?" Anakin asked.

"Not too long," Obi-Wan told him. "A bit over an hour."

Anakin nodded. It wasn't the most time he'd ever lost doing such a thing, which was one of the other reasons he avoided meditation. Other Jedi sometimes spent hours in meditation, sure, but  _they_  usually did it on purpose.

And, as far as he knew, though admittedly he'd done no research on the subject, they didn't usually get pushed around by evil, overly-handsy doppelgängers of themselves.

"I hate my subconscious," Anakin said. Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at him, but he didn't elaborate.

Obi-Wan sat down next to him. "Did you come to any conclusions?"

Anakin nodded. Taking a deep breath, he looked Obi-Wan in the eyes. "I—I've decided I want to stay a Jedi. At least for now."

Obi-Wan settled back against his heels, his eyebrows raised. Though Obi-Wan's expression remained carefully neutral, Anakin could feel relief leaking off him in the Force. "May I ask what led you to make up your mind?"

Anakin considered how best to explain it. "You were right," he said eventually.

Obi-Wan quirked his lips. "Of course I was. About what?"

Rolling his eyes, Anakin reached out to swat the older man's arm. "That I can always leave later if it doesn't work out." He paused, lowering his eyes to the floor. "It'd be one thing to go because I didn't want to be a Jedi, or because I could do more good outside the Order. But that's not true, and leaving because I know it's going to be hard or because I'm afraid I might not succeed…" Anakin shook his head. "I'm not sure I'd be able to look myself in the mirror."

At that, Obi-Wan looked at him thoughtfully, reaching forward with one hand to clasp Anakin lightly on the shoulder. "You've thought this through, then." He hesitated, and then added after a moment: "I am proud of you, Anakin."

Obi-Wan removed his hand, but Anakin reached forward before he could draw away entirely and pulled the older man into a hug. It wasn't the desperate sort of clinging he'd engaged in on Mustafar, when Obi-Wan's arms around him had felt like his only link to sanity; this time, he just drew Obi-Wan closer and rested his head on the crook of his friend's neck. "Thank you, Master," he said, and hoped Obi-Wan knew he was referring to more than just the compliment.

Obi-Wan slipped an arm around his shoulders. "You're very welcome," he said, and Anakin closed his eyes and smiled.

* * *

In a small room in the depths of the Temple, two Jedi Masters sat across from one another. Prior to the commotion caused by the return of Kenobi and Skywalker from Mustafar, the Council had reached a decision regarding the notes left by Darth Plagueis, and the time had come to put that decision into action.

The papers had been separated. Some, like the notes on immortality and resurrection or the use of midichlorian manipulation as a weapon, had been brought down to the Sith Vault where they would remain unstudied and untouched. Others, which referenced flow-walking and other techniques already known to the Jedi, were placed into the Masters-only section of the Temple Archives, attached to a note of warning about their origins for anyone who decided to use them in their research.

But one of Plagueis's techniques had been more difficult to categorize: neither familiar enough to be cautiously made available, nor flagrantly dark enough to be locked away for good. Some on the Council argued that  _any_  midichlorian-based healing methods would inevitably lead to the dark side, and to the nature-defying extremes such as resurrection practiced by Plagueis himself. Others believed that the basic method could be adapted for use safely, arguing that to avoid any Force-technique anyone had ever fueled by the dark side would be to cut themselves off from the Force altogether. Even Sith could meditate, after all.

In the end, a compromise had been reached. Yoda, and Yoda alone, would study the methods described by Plagueis and attempt to reach out with the Force to sense and manipulate individual midichlorians. If such a thing was within the realm of possibility for a Jedi without tapping into the dark side, the Council had reasoned, the Grand Master had the greatest chance of pulling it off. If and when it was determined to be possible,  _then_  other Jedi Masters and healers would be allowed to make their own efforts to master the technique.

And if such a thing was  _not_ possible, it went unspoken, Yoda was the one best-trusted not to succumb to temptation should the dark side prove the only avenue to success. No Council member doubted any other's commitment to the light, but then again, no one had ever doubted Dooku, or Sora Bulq, or Depa, or even Barriss Offee. And even the well-intentioned could become vulnerable to the dark side, once exposed to it. As there was no urgency to make a determination about the techniques, proceeding with caution was the order of the day—and that meant leaving the exploration of potentially dark techniques to the oldest, most experienced, and (according to general opinion) wisest member of the Jedi Order.

Yoda himself had been one of the Council members willing to allow the papers to be locked away, this secret to remain forever buried in the Temple Vaults. Jedi healing techniques had functioned for centuries, and he saw little reason to improve upon a system that worked. Yet on the chance that this discovery had been willed by the Force, he offered no opposition to the rest of the Council's decision.

"Sure that you want to do this, are you?" he questioned his companion. "Too late it is not to choose a different test subject. Perhaps an animal, hmm?"

Mace Windu shook his head. "We both know there's little enough chance of this working as it is. Using a non-sentient with a low midichlorian count would only handicap us further. Go ahead."

According to Plagueis's notes, it had taken him decades for his visions of midichlorian-manipulation to become a reality. Though the Council was hopeful that between their use of his writings as a starting place and the fact that they were focusing on healing rather than immortality—surely the less unnatural of the two, and so perhaps the easier to accomplish—it would take them far less time than it had the Sith Lord, none had any illusions that it would be an  _easy_  task.

Windu placed his left hand on the table between himself and the other Master. Nodding at Yoda, he removed the utility knife from his belt and drew the edge carefully across the back of his hand, leaving behind a small, shallow cut which quickly welled with blood.

Yoda closed his eyes, reaching out so that his hand hovered over Windu's. To a Force-null observer, it would have appeared that nothing was happening, yet the wizened old Master's eyes were closed in concentration, his lips pressed closely together.

The two remained in that position for several long minutes. Finally, Yoda shook his head and withdrew his hand.

Windu glanced at the unchanged cut on his hand, expression neutral. The result, or lack thereof, was no more nor less than he'd expected for their first attempt. "Could you at least  _sense_ my individual midichlorians?"

Tilting his head to the side, Yoda made a noncommittal sound. "Sensed something, I did. But able to manipulate the midichlorians directly, I was not."

"Very well." Windu sighed, lifting his hand off the table to stretch his arms, then placing it back down. "Let's try again." 

And they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some things in this story - such as references to the fate of Depa Billaba - have been Jossed (i.e. made no longer canon) by the reboot of the EU and the other new Star Wars material. While I enjoy the new stories that are coming out, this fic will continue to primarily reference the Legends EU for the sake of remaining consistent with the first twenty or so chapters.


	25. Interrogation

Obi-Wan walked briskly down the corridor towards Anakin's quarters. It had been two days since the disastrous trip to Mustafar, and thanks to the high-profile Jedi involvement in the mission, he and the rest of the Council had been buried in political fallout amongst all the other issues they were dealing with. Whatever Padmé had commed him about, he hoped it would be an interesting distraction.

But not _too_ interesting. She hadn't sounded concerned enough to make him think Anakin had gotten involved in something dangerous again, but with the way his life had been going lately, he wasn't going to rule out an entirely new and probably horrifying type of trouble.

Thankfully, when he walked into the apartment, it was to see the pair of them sprawled out on Anakin's couch. Anakin waved him in and Padmé, who had a datapad in one hand, looked up at him with a satisfied expression that made him discount any of the worst possibilities. "I've found something," she announced.

Obi-Wan dropped into an armchair. "Oh?"

"About Damask," Padmé told him. She stood up, walking over to him and handing him the datapad she'd been holding. "Aside from looking at every issue he ever publicly allied with Palpatine on, I've been chasing down his money trails all over the place. While you were gone I discovered a large transaction he'd made about thirteen years ago into a corporation that never existed."

"Thirteen years…" Obi-Wan repeated, leaning forward in his seat. "Around the time of the blockade of Naboo?"

Padmé nodded. "Before, but the timing was enough to make me suspicious. And when I dug a little further, I found similar transactions going back decades, and all of them lead to the same place." She sat back down next to Anakin, who flashed her a proud smile.

"All right, you have me curious," Obi-Wan admitted, tapping his fingers on the arms of his chair. "Where? Somewhere I've heard of, I take it."

This time, it was Anakin who answered him. "Not just heard of, Master. You've been there." His expression grew serious. "Kamino."

Well. They'd known from the moment the clones turned that the Kaminoans must have been hiding something. The Council had, for the time being, decided against sending someone to investigate—if the Kaminoans were actively complicit in the plot to destroy the Jedi, they'd have the thousands of clones in various stages of development on their planet to attack anyone who came, and simply bombing the place from orbit wouldn't garner them any answers. Moreover, all the Order's resources had been tied up trying to retrieve stranded Jedi before the clones could get to them.

Still, it was an interesting development. And a timely one: even before Padmé had called him, he'd been on his way towards Anakin's quarters. Now, it seemed that the task the Council had assigned the pair of them had taken on a new intriguing dimension. "Our prisoner finally woke up earlier today," he told Anakin. "I think it's time we ask him a few questions."

* * *

Obi-Wan at his side, Anakin headed down the twisted passageways through the depths of the Jedi Temple. Here, far below the main floors of the building, below even the storage room full of Palpatine's possessions he'd visited a few days before, was located a part of the Temple that he'd only been to rarely.

Prison cells. It had been centuries since more than one or two had been used a time, and more often than not, none at all had been occupied. The Jedi had long since agreed to allow the Republic's criminal justice system to take precedent, and the government had its own prisons. Generally speaking, only dangerous Force-users were to be held captive here, and before the re-emergence of the Sith, those had been few and far-between.

The captive they were visiting today was not a Force-sensitive. A pawn of the Sith, and currently an enemy of the Jedi, yes, but certainly not an actual dark-sider. Two weeks ago, he might have been taken to a Republic military prison.

Times had changed since then. For starters, the military prisons weren't operating at the moment, since the clones in charge of them were dead or AWOL thanks to Order 66. But then, if it weren't for Order 66, this man would never have been a prisoner.

The pair presented themselves to the Temple guards keeping watch outside the cell and were waved through. Anakin paused outside the ray-shield door and took a moment to look at the man sitting inside.

Physically, Captain Rex looked much as he had the last time Anakin had seen him before Mustafar, when he and Obi-Wan had handed over command of the mission they'd been forced to abandon when the call came through about the Separatist attack on Coruscant. Dressed only in black fatigues, he was standing in the middle of his cell in a parade rest and apparently had been since before they'd arrived. Though he was staring straight ahead, he didn't make eye contact or give any indication that he'd noticed their arrival.

It was his eyes that had changed, Anakin thought. They'd never looked that flat before. That and his Force-signature: despite their identical DNA, each clone's presence had its own individual flavor to it for anyone who bothered to look for it. And Anakin had always made a point of looking. Even if Rex had been standing in a lineup with a dozen other clones, his Force-presence would have made him as easy to pick out as his blonde-dyed hair.

Right now, though, there was something _off_ about what Anakin was sensing. Rex's presence was muted. The change was subtle—Anakin wasn't sure he'd have noticed it if he hadn't been looking. Rex didn't feel dark, or angry, or malicious, or anything else that would mark him as an enemy if it wasn't for the fact that he'd tried to kill Anakin two days before. Nothing was there for Anakin to sense that hadn't been there for as long as they'd been working together.

But something was missing. He couldn't quite put his finger on what.

"Hello, Rex," Anakin said quietly. Though he hadn't been there for it, he'd heard that the clone had woken briefly while being transported here and attacked the Jedi guarding him. Nobody had been seriously injured, but it was the sedative the medics had given Rex after that incident which had forced them to push back questioning the clone until today.

Rex still didn't acknowledge him.

Anakin shared a glance with Obi-Wan, who shrugged at him and then stepped forward until he was immediately in front of the door. "Captain Rex," Obi-Wan snapped in an authoritative voice that Anakin had heard from him a number of times, both before his Knighting and after, usually when he'd done something Obi-Wan considered not just disobedient or reckless but also spectacularly stupid, "you are under arrest for treason and the attempted murder of your superior officers. Report!"

That wasn't technically true—Rex wasn't being formally charged with anything—but it appeared to have an effect. Rex lifted his chin and met Obi-Wan's eyes.

Apparently encouraged by this small response, Obi-Wan tried again. "CT-7567, _explain your actions!_ "

"Good soldiers follow orders," Rex said, and nothing more.

Anakin swore. They'd expected that, yeah. And it wasn't that he _wanted_ for Rex to have tried to kill them entirely of his own volition: he'd had enough of betrayal lately. Still, convincing Rex to give them information about the other clones would have been a hell of a lot easier if it had just been a matter of persuasion. This made things trickier—there were medical complications for starters, and it was entirely possible there were redundant forms of programming beyond the one they knew about.

"And what are your orders, Rex?" Obi-Wan asked softly, the imperiousness gone from his voice.

Rex stepped forward until he was standing just inches in front of the ray shield. His military posture was impeccable, his head held high as he stated, "The Jedi are traitors. Kill the Jedi."

* * *

"He sounded just like Tup did," Anakin told the Council a few hours later. "Same phrases, same look in his eyes, same everything."

Standing beside him, Obi-Wan nodded his assent. "I think his behavior can lay to rest any doubts that we had. The chips that we became aware of earlier this year are responsible for the clones' fanatical execution of Palpatine's orders."

Obi-Wan had told Anakin earlier that the Council had suspected as much from the beginning. Fives's claims of a plot to destroy the Jedi using the clones had sounded ridiculous when he'd first made them. But it was even less likely that the entire army, to a man, would go rogue against the orders of the new Acting Chancellor and try to kill the Jedi they had once fought side-by-side with.

Now, they had proof that Fives had been right. Anakin couldn't help but think that maybe, if he'd been willing to listen to the clone when he'd still been alive, he might have been able to prevent this. All of it. Some of it. _Any_ of it.

It had been Fives's assertion that the Chancellor had been the one behind the plot that had been the final straw against him in Anakin's mind. He'd been unwilling to hear a single bad word against Palpatine, and now thousands of Jedi had paid the price.

He'd been so _blind._

And he hadn't told the Council about the accusation against Palpatine. Mostly because he'd taken it for the ravings of a madman, but partly because he'd known there were Masters on the Council—Obi-Wan among them—who didn't trust Palpatine, and he hadn't wanted to create more unwarranted suspicion. Leaving that detail out of his report had seemed an obvious way both to protect his friend and to serve the Republic by not driving a wedge between two of its highest authorities in a time of crisis and war.

An easy decision, at the time. Deceptively easy for a choice that had turned out to have the fate of the Jedi Order—and the galaxy—hanging in the balance. And even though Anakin knew that probably nothing would have come of it even if he'd chosen differently, because Palpatine had been too smart to leave evidence around to confirm anybody's suspicions, he couldn't help but wonder. Even a slim chance that the Jedi could have been ready for Order 66 was still a _chance_.

He also couldn't help but wonder how the hell Fives had discovered the truth about Palpatine. Maybe Palpatine had just told him, wielding honesty about his true nature as a weapon just as he had with Anakin. It had been Fives's attack on the Chancellor that had led to him being hunted and killed, after all.

They had all been pawns. Puppets dancing on the ends of Sidious's strings.

Anakin tuned back in to the conversation going on around him.

"I see no choice but to contact the Kaminoans," Windu was saying. "If they're willing to help us stop the clones, we could use their knowledge. If they're not, then they're working _with_ the clones, and we definitely need to know whatever they're hiding."

"We don't have the military strength to force them to give us anything," Tholme pointed out. "If they refuse to cooperate…"

A heavy silence fell. "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it," said Obi-Wan eventually. "First we need to determine if they'll even talk to us."

* * *

The good news, Obi-Wan reflected twenty minutes later, was that the Kaminoans _had_ been willing to answer their call, and the Council had soon found itself in the communications center speaking to the holographic forms of Lama Su and Taun We.

The bad news, of course, was that despite the Kaminoans' assurances, they had no guarantee that hundreds of clones weren't lurking just out of sight of the projector, and also that Taun We was categorically refusing to give them any information about how the chips worked, let alone how to disable them.

"You must understand, Master Jedi, if we went around giving out the scientific advances we made in the course of our experiments, we would soon be out of business." She paused. "Surely you wouldn't wish for us to give the secrets of this technology to anybody who asked for it?"

Obi-Wan shuddered.

"We're the one the clones are trying to _kill_ ," Mace said. "We aren't just anybody." He shared a glance with Yoda. "But I'd prefer if we didn't have to make this an issue of your legal liability. I'm sure you agree. Just name a reasonable price, and we'll transfer you the credits."

"Very good," said Taun We, inclining her head in his direction. "But you misunderstand me, Master Jedi. The science behind our programming is more complicated than I can simply explain to you. We must meet, in person, if I am to give you the information."

Mace leaned forward. "Why not just send it to us?" he demanded.

Lama Su shook his head. "The data we collected is valuable," he said. "Too valuable to transmit over a holo-connection, even a secured one. You must collect and pay for it in person."

Well. That sounded like an invitation to walk into a trap if Obi-Wan had ever heard one. "With all due respect, Prime Minister," he said carefully, "you've deceived us before, and if there are clones at your disposal then you could ambush any number of Jedi we sent to meet with you."

Lama Su swiveled his long, graceful neck so that his head was turned in Obi-Wan's direction. "We have no reason to betray you, Master Kenobi. We did nothing but fulfill our contract to Sifo-Dyas and Tyranus, and now that they are dead, only the Republic remains for us to work with. Making an enemy of the Jedi simply wouldn't be profitable."

What was it Dex had told him when he'd first asked if the Kaminoans were friendly? _It depends on how good your manners are…and how big your pocketbook is._ Dead men didn't have pocketbooks, which meant there was a chance Lama Su was telling the truth.

It wasn't a chance Obi-Wan would have liked to stake his life on. Looking around, he could sense that the other Masters were similarly suspicious. Beside him, Anakin had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, and his lips were pressed together in a thin line—no Force-use was necessary to tell Obi-Wan how _he_ felt.

One part of Lama Su's response stuck out to him. "Your contract with Sifo-Dyas and Tyranus," Obi-Wan repeated. "Tell me, were you aware that Tyranus was Count Dooku?"

"Was he?" said Lama Su. Neither Kaminoan appeared surprised at the revelation. But then, their tranquil expressions held no trace of guilt or alarm at the Jedi's knowledge either, Obi-Wan noted, and the Force wasn't giving him any hints.

"I'm afraid we had no idea," Taun We added.

Obi-Wan exchanged a glance with Anakin. "Of course you didn't."

"We'll discuss the matter and be in contact," said Mace shortly. He cut the connection then stepped back from the projector, a frown on his face.

There was silence. "I don't see that we have any choice but to meet with them," said Tholme after a moment. "We need that information."

"And if we had any assurance that whoever we sent wouldn't be ambushed and killed on the spot," added Luminara drily, "it might even be a good plan."

Stass Allie, newly returned from Saleucami, folded her arms. "We could send a non-Jedi. The clones so far haven't been aggressive towards civilians."

Mace rubbed his eyes. "The clones who shot up the Senate weren't trying to avoid collateral damage. If it meant keeping information from us, I doubt they'd hesitate to kill _anybody._ " He paused, considering. "And that's assuming they wouldn't blast the ship into pieces first and ask questions later."

"Besides," cut in Coleman Kcaj. "If they're lying to us, then they won't be bringing the information, and it won't matter who we send."

"So a question of trust, this matter becomes." Yoda shook his head. "Believe, do we, that the Prime Minister is telling the truth? Or not?" Another silence fell, this one uneasy. Yoda had reduced the problem to its heart, but, Obi-Wan knew, that didn't make it any easier to solve. The Kaminoans had never been easy to read, and that was doubly true now that they knew the cloners had been withholding important information.

Which didn't mean it wasn't a risk worth taking. "My impression of the Kaminoans is that they wouldn't stay loyal to a dead employer if it meant taking a financial hit," Obi-Wan said finally. "They're self-serving, not malicious. But we should still take precautions. If nothing else, the clones themselves have the military might to strong-arm the Kaminoans into acting on their behalf."

Anakin spoke up for the first time in several minutes. "So we play it smart," he said. "We can't meet them at Kamino, and I don't think they'll send anyone to Coruscant, but we could set up a meeting on the outskirts of some other system. Give the location only at the last minute so there wouldn't be time for clones to set up an ambush, and so that whichever of _us_ goes can be there already, ready to jump if they bring in more than one ship."

Obi-Wan nodded. "We'd have to convince them to transfer over to our ship for the negotiations," he added. "If they're unwilling, that could be a sign that the situation is a trap."

Not that he was _always_ opposed to walking into traps, but there was a fine line between purposefully allowing the enemy to play their hand and committing strategically unnecessary suicide. Walking onto the Kaminoans' ship and trusting they wouldn't immediately jump back to the middle of a clone-controlled fleet would definitely be closer to the latter.

Mace let out a sigh. "All right," he said. "Let's break for now. Yoda and I will choose a system for the rendezvous; everyone else, try to think of any additional precautions we should put in place for the meeting. We'll reconvene in a few hours."

The group dissolved, and Obi-Wan was unsurprised when Anakin fell into step beside him as he walked toward the door. "Master Windu talked about stopping the clones," Anakin said quietly as they emerged into the hallway. "If it's really only the chips making them act this way—we're going to try to undo it, right? Fix them, not kill them?"

Obi-Wan sighed. The suggestion had been raised in a previous Council meeting, as soon as they'd connected the clones' behavior to the incident with ARC-Trooper Fives, and been shot down almost as quickly. "Fix them _how_ , Anakin?" he asked. "Perform brain surgery on thousands of highly-trained soldiers who are determined to kill us or die trying? If it were that easy to capture them, we wouldn't be in this predicament!"

"Oh," Anakin frowned. "Right." Then he brightened, looking over at Obi-Wan hopefully. "We could do it with Rex, though, right? I mean, all we have to do is scan his head for his chip and take it out."

There was a pause. "We will certainly do that at some point," Obi-Wan said.

"At _some_ point?" Anakin turned to face him. "Why not right now? Why not today?"

"Because we still don't know if removing the chip contributed to Fives's breakdown." Anakin started to protest, and Obi-Wan held up a hand. "I'm not saying we should leave it in his head forever. But the information we get from the Kaminoans may tell us how best to remove it _safely,_ without causing any brain damage. There's no harm in waiting."

Anakin scowled at the floor. "I don't like it," he muttered. He looked up, meeting Obi-Wan's eyes. "I mean, I get it. But I don't like leaving him like, like _that_ , with no control over his actions."

"I know," said Obi-Wan.

* * *

Three days later, Obi-Wan watched with no small amount of relief when a single ship—clearly nonmilitary—emerged from hyperspace into the uninhabited system that they had decided upon.

In the end, the Kaminoans had agreed to the terms with very little protest: one representative from the Jedi would meet one representative from Kamino in neutral territory. As Obi-Wan had suspected, the most difficult part was convincing Taun We to transfer over to his ship, something the Jedi hadn't brought up in negotiations so as to avoid potentially giving the enemy the chance to come up with a trap. He didn't blame her—had their situations been reversed, he would have been wary of being taken captive. But though the Jedi Order had been forced to make some difficult moral decisions over the course of the war, they certainly had _not_ stooped to kidnapping scientists who, at the moment, didn't appear to be working against them. Still, he could understand her caution.

"Very well," Taun We said eventually. "However, Master Jedi, you should be aware that the datachip I am going to give you requires a passkey to be opened. Only once I am safely returned to my ship after our conversation will I transmit it to you."

Obi-Wan paused. The largest risk in the operation was the possibility of ambush, either before or after the negotiations had taken place. He was less concerned about what would happen while Taun We was onboard, since he doubted the Kaminoan would risk her own life if she thought his ship was going to be blown up in the near future.

But if she thought she would be able to get back to her own ship and _then_ have time to transmit a message…

No. He didn't sense any deception, and this mission was too important to call off because of a chance that his life might be in danger. And if it turned out that he was wrong about her allegiance, he'd just have to trust in the Force to guide him to safety, or not, as it willed.

"Understood," he told her. "Prepare to dock." Slipping out of the pilot's chair, he made his way through the small ship to the docking area, one hand resting on his lightsaber. When the door slid back to reveal Taun We, alone and as far as he could tell unarmed, he relaxed only slightly.

"Master Jedi," she said, bowing gracefully. "A pleasure to see you again."

"I wish I could say the same." Obi-Wan stepped back, allowing her to enter. "Under the circumstances, I'm afraid I'm a little caught up in the fact that you've been deceiving us for years."

Taun We looked at him as if surprised, perhaps taken aback that he was cutting to the chase so quickly. "That is...a harsh way of putting it," she said, and Obi-Wan wondered if she was genuinely bewildered about why he was upset.

"You knew the clones were intended to kill Jedi," he said. "You knew about Order 66 and you lied to us about it."

Taun We met his eyes steadily. "We knew the purpose of the chips," she admitted. "We were told that it was to be a contingency, in case the Jedi ever became a danger to the Republic."

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "And you didn't find that at all suspicious?"

"It is not my job to be suspicious of my employers," she said, voice icy. "I simply do as I am paid for."

Rubbing at his eyes, Obi-Wan sighed. Casting blame about wasn't what he'd come here for. "What can you tell us about how the programming works?"

At that, Taun We seemed to brighten. "Our behavioral programming is very thorough," she told him, with more enthusiasm than Obi-Wan felt the situation really called for. "First the units were genetically modified while in the fetal stage to be obedient. Though we couldn't strip them of their independent decision-making abilities entirely without losing the creativity that makes them superior to droids, they are more receptive to orders than their genetic source was."

Obi-Wan nodded. This part, at least, he'd heard before.

"All units were then given ten years of training," Taun We continued. "In addition to imparting fighting abilities and teaching them how to work together on the battlefield, we also conditioned them for a number of specific scenarios at Tyranus's request. Order 66 was one of the contingencies they were trained for, in case any Jedi ever went rogue."

"Order 66," Obi-Wan said flatly. "Killing Jedi."

For the first time, Taun We hesitated before answering. "Yes," she said. "If given the order by the Chancellor, they were to cease all other activities and eliminate the Jedi threat."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly. "And the chips?"

"Given to us by Tyranus and implanted in the embryonic stage," she told him. "As part of the modifications to make the units more obedient. The chips were intended to suppress aggression, and also to ensure that the contingencies Tyranus gave us would be executed faithfully if it ever became necessary. We suspected the units might become more...independent...the longer they were away from our conditioning centers, and we didn't want to take the chance of disobedience."

Right. "But the clones didn't listen when the Acting Chancellor ordered them to stand down." Which made sense, unfortunately, though that hadn't stopped them from trying it: Palpatine had clearly planned for contingencies, wouldn't have allowed for his plan to be derailed so easily. "So the chips won't respond to anyone other than Palpatine?"

Again, Taun We hesitated. "Well," she said.

Obi-Wan stared at her, a flare of hope blooming in his chest. " _Well_?"

"There is the override transmitter," Taun We said. "Though, I'm not sure you'd want-"

"Override transmitter?" Obi-Wan cut her off. "There's an _override transmitter_?" Relief warring with anger, Obi-Wan resisted the urge to grab Taun We and demand to know why it had taken so long for her to mention it. Why hadn't the Kaminoans tried to sell the remote to them the moment Order 66 had been executed? Had they decided to purposefully wait to be contacted, allowing the situation to become more and more desperate to drive up the price? "In that case," he said, with a calm he didn't feel, "I'd like to buy it."

"No," she said. "That would be impossible."

Obi-Wan wondered if she didn't have it on her. It seemed improbable that she wouldn't have predicted the request, but perhaps she hadn't wanted to risk bringing such an important bargaining chip until she knew he could pay for it. "You should understand," he began, "the Jedi Order is prepared to pay for such a device. We will compensate you."

Taun We shook her head. "I'm afraid it's not a matter of money, Master Kenobi," she said, sounding genuinely regretful. "Like the chips, it was created by Tyranus, and as far as I know, he was the only one to ever have a copy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between updates, you guys. It's been a busy semester. Also, just to reiterate one more time - this story is going to continue using Legends canon, so don't be surprised if there are discrepancies between the fic and new canon (for example, Rex's fate as seen in Rebels). As always, thanks for reading!


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